Let Me Be Broken
by heylooklisten
Summary: A disturbed Ravenclaw comes in between Ron and Hermione's relationship when his mind cracks and he loses his identity. He stumbles down a violent and dangerous pit, dragging the lives of many Hogwarts students down with him in a tale of life and death. R/Hr/OC.
1. Assailant

**A/N:** This is going to be a big project, so I suggest story alerting if you like it!  
Most of it is themed around Ron and Hermione's relationship development and struggles, but there is also another character quite fixed in the story. Other characters will appear as main plot points as the story goes on, but you're going to have to wait for those to be unravelled. *wink* Enjoy.

ps. It takes place in the trio's sixth year at Hogwarts, though some real events may either be altered or not portrayed. Ron/Hermione/OC POV alternating mainly, with very short POV cameos from others.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters for this whole story, the mighty J.K. Rowling does.**

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_I still wish you the best of luck baby_  
_ And don't go thinking that this was a waste of time_  
_ I couldn't forget you if I tried_.  
_ You killed what was left of the good in me_  
_ I'm tired, so let me be broken and_  
_ Look down at the mess that's in front of me_  
_ No other words can be spoken_  
_ And I've got nobody else to blame though I tried_  
_ Kept all of my past mistakes down inside_  
_ I'll live with regret for my whole life._

"You be Tails, I'll be Sonic"  
- A Day To Remember

They say that in order to find your road of happiness, you must first unchain yourself from painful memories – to forgive, to forget, to get over that bridge and have your life renewed. But 'they' don't know what they're talking about. If they've truly experienced anything, _anything_, they would know that the bullshit philosophy people try to feed you is nothing more than mere words against raw scars.

_It isn't good enough._

The last few happy moments just replay in your head like a record with a scratch. Of course you won't move forward – you just want to squeeze your eyes shut, indulging yourself before your eyes fly open again and you hope you're _there_, so you can make it right and move on with your life the way you imagined it to.

_It doesn't work that way._

To come from a broken household, this place should have been a safe haven, a glimmer of hope that there was still something left living for. Why didn't anyone see he was still the same boy they knew the first six years, but with a desperate gleam in his eye that screamed he needed a hand to pull him out of the water? They drifted anyway.

_It couldn't be helped._

He drowned alone painfully, but resurfaced, in some ways worse, but in more appealing ways, better. He was sick of succumbing to the past – it was time to make things right.

His way.

* * *

_Two months later._

"Take a look, new products have come in!" Ron said excitedly, grabbing a violet box decorated with flashing words.

Hermione plucked one off the shelf, examining it. "'New and improved Extendable Ears – eavesdrop with a higher quality of sound...'" she read aloud.

"Hm," Harry said, looking mildly interested. "Those can come in handy."

"Eavesdropping only ever gets us into trouble," Hermione said disapprovingly, putting the box back down with a thud. "Let's put a bit of effort into avoiding that for once!"

Harry and Ron gave each other a knowing glance and tried hiding their laughter, which was plainly obviously. Hermione crossed her arms and sniffed, walking past the display. The three of them, along with dozens of Hogwarts students, were packed into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Despite the cold and snowy state of that Saturday, the turnout was more alarming than Hermione had expected. She found herself tugging at her collar because of the growing humidity inside.

"Now_ these_ are useful," Harry said, picking up a box of Smart Quills. "Essay writing would be a breeze."

Ron nodded vigorously, the tassels on his hat swinging. "Put those in the bag."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "You guys don't learn, do you?"

"Oh don't be a killjoy, Hermione, they're not going to write essays for us. They'll just... help us along the way," Ron pointed out. "Like you do. Now we won't bother you again!"

"Appealing idea," she laughed, which triggered a sudden bout of coughs. Hermione covered her mouth with a hand and turned away. She was hoping her small fever would go away, but it only seemed to be getting worse, much to her dismay.

"Your eyes are red," Harry said, concerned. "Maybe this trip wasn't such a great idea."

Hermione shook her head, wheezing. "No, no – there's no need for all of us to leave. I'll head back up to the castle." She buttoned up her coat right up to her neck.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked keenly, touching her lightly on the shoulder. She nodded, putting on her gloves.

"We'll bring you back some sweets from Honeydukes, then."

She smiled weakly and pushed her way past the throng of students towards the exit.

Out in the street, there was minimal people loitering about – the temperature dipped down well below zero and most people were either inside a store or tucked comfortably within the Three Broomsticks with a toasty cup of Butterbeer. Snow fell from the sky softly, adding to the thirty centimetres already on the ground. The small town looked like the perfect snow globe.

Hermione crossed her arms tightly and hurried up the street towards the path to Hogwarts, her cheeks hot with fever. The wind howled, blowing snow off the roofs of shops, impairing her vision. She trudged on wearily, narrowing her eyes to avoid snow hitting them.

The crunch of snow beneath her boots soon became the only thing Hermione could hear including the wind's moans. She was nearing the mouth of Hogsmeade, where only a couple of shacked up stores lingered. No more students seemed to be coming down from the castle, and no one but herself was heading back this early.

A chill ran up her spine and she started coughing violently again. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the wave to pass when suddenly, she couldn't _hear_ herself coughing anymore – but she was _still coughing._

Before she could wonder whether or not she was dreaming, two strong arms snatched her from behind and proceeded to drag her in between two of the abandoned shops. Hermione's heart leapt with shock and she tried screaming, but no sound came out. She struggled against her perpetrator, kicking back against his or her ankles.

"_Stop it_," the person demanded gruffly – it was a male voice, but he sounded relatively young. She ignored him and bit the hand that was clasped tightly on her shoulder.

The man swore angrily and twisted Hermione's arm – an excruciatingly sharp pain shot up her arm and she yelped, screwing her eyes shut, though nothing could be heard.

_He must have cast a silencing charm on me, _Hermione thought, hot tears rolling down her face. As if he could hear what she was thinking, the man dug into her coat and extracted her wand, putting it into his own pocket.

He twisted her around so Hermione stared into his bloodshot eyes – she recognized him immediately, but she didn't know whether it was because he was a student at Hogwarts or not. She saw the grin of a blade, and froze. He jabbed the tip under her chin. With his other hand, he took a small glass bottle out of his pocket filled with a thick blue substance.

"Drink this," he commanded roughly. Hermione shook her head defiantly, her vision blurred with more tears brimming her eyes. He stroked the blade across her jawline and the tears spilt down her face in pain.

"Drink this, or I'll make sure today is the last day of life your Muggle parents will see," he whispered, his hollow gaze piercing her from under his hood. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his face was gaunt. "I guarantee you, I will shatter your life."

Deep fear bubbled in the pit of Hermione's stomach at his void words – was he telling the truth? She didn't know what he was capable of, but she didn't risk the chance. She felt a pang in her heart as she thought about Ron and Harry, rummaging through items in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She longed to race away from this man, back up the street, screaming their names, but she knew there was no point.

Hermione bowed her head, letting her tears drop helplessly onto the snow. She wondered whether or not that was the last time she saw her friends.

The man in front of her took this as a sign of defeat and pushed the bottle towards her. She took it, pulled out the stopper and peered inside – the potion was a sky blue, smelled like berries, and completely alien to Hermione.

With the knife still jabbed below her chin, Hermione screwed her eyes shut and downed the potion. Immediately, she clenched her stomach as her body began to shift. She kept her eyes closed throughout the whole of it – when she opened her eyes, she was no longer in her body.

Hermione straightened up, looking down at herself. She had gotten shorter, and long blonde hair swung onto her face instead of the usual bushy brown. She glared at the man, her eyes flashing with the question of who he had forced her to transform into.

He put the blade back into his pocket, grabbed her arm and leaned forward, staring at her with those horrible, empty eyes.

"You will follow me and act appropriate. Keep your head down and do not look at anyone. Step out of line, and you'll pay miserably," he hissed, his hot breath burning her eyes.

She nodded, hoping that if she just did what she was told, he would let her go eventually. This guy meant business, and she didn't want others paying for her foolish mistakes. She wiped the tear streaks from her face and nodded wretchedly.

He walked out back onto the street and up towards Hogwarts. Hermione followed him silently, her vocal cords still muted. Much to her disappointed, there was still no students on the path.

Though the walk must have been a total of ten minutes, Hermione felt it lasted for hours. When they reached the entrance of the castle, he ushered her inside, shooting her a deadly look. He hurried down one of the halls before ducking into a secret passageway, dragging her along with him.

Soon, they were on the seventh floor. Hermione continued to stare at the ground and not look up at the very few students they passed by.

_He must be a student_, she thought, gazing at his shoes and the bottom of his robes. _No one seems to be questioning him._

He stopped abruptly in an empty hall. Hermione chanced a quick peek – they were standing next to the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. Her perpetrator walked to and fro in front of the empty wall, and she knew he was trying to access the Room of Requirement. Soon enough, a large door materialized and he opened it, grabbing Hermione and yanking her inside.

The half of the room they stood on was plain and empty; the other half was separated from them by thick bars almost like... a jail cell.

The perpetrator pulled her towards the open door of the cell – her new body was much more frail, rendering it useless to fight – and threw her inside. Hermione slammed onto the cold floor, hitting her head against the single chamber pot inside.

She struggled to sit up, disoriented – she wiped the blood trickling down her forehead with her jacket sleeve. She noticed she could hear herself – or rather, the girl she was pretending to be – panting. The charm was finally lifted.

Hermione looked up and blinked – 'he' had taken off his hood and she could see his face without a shadow masking it now. His hair was a messy shock of light brown, framing a narrow, pallid face. He had dark, inky eyelashes that hooded his hollow, bottle-green eyes, and at that moment, his lips formed a thin straight line. She finally recognized him – he _was_ a Hogwarts student, a Ravenclaw in seventh year.

She scrambled up, grabbing the bars of the cell and stared defiantly at him.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered coldly, her voice hoarse.

Suddenly, his eyes grew soft and he had a fidgety expression on his face. In a split second, went from a cold, hard assailant to a regular, nervous seventeen year old.

"I... I need help."

* * *

**Ohoho, things are going to get real.**

**I'd appreciate some reviews! What did you like, what didn't you like, all types of comments and feedback are welcome!  
**  
-heylooklisten


	2. Hostage

**A/N: **Thanks for all the reviews, I truly appreciate them! As a result, here is the next chapter.

p.s - Yes, some concepts will be confusing at first, but suspense is key. Also, I'm Canadian, so know that some of the spellings are different in comparison to the U.S (most of my readers are American).

_Enjoy!_

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A wave of confusion and shock hit Hermione, but more than anything, scorching anger. The unfamiliar frail hands the Polyjuice Potion created clenched the bars of the cage tighter until her knuckles were stark white.

"Help you?" she spat, trying to shake the bars of the cell, pale blonde hair flying madly. The voice she borrowed was naturally soft, which was hardly threatening. "Who _are _you?"

"I'm one of the forgotten," he breathed quietly, gazing down at the ground. Hermione didn't know what triggered the sudden change in him, but she couldn't care less. Her head was spinning uncontrollably and it was all she could do to stand up. She could feel the blood had dried on her forehead, but the large bump throbbed excruciatingly like a second heart.

"You're a seventh year Ravenclaw, I know that much," she panted. "When I'm out of here, you don't know what you're going to face."

He stared at her, his eyebrows knit together. "You won't be getting out unless I _let_ you out. I have your wand. This room is undetectable."

Both statements were correct. Hermione was completely defenceless without her wand, and the Room of Requirement was a mystery to most people.

"The last anyone saw of Hermione Granger was in Hogsmeade," he continued flatly, rubbing his arm nervously. "Otherwise, you've vanished without a trace or a witness."

Right again. She staggered over to the chamber pot in the cell and peered down into the water's reflection. Even with the large bump and caked blood, Hermione instantly recognized the large silvery eyes looking back at her wearily.

Luna Lovegood.

"W-why am I Luna?" she cried in the voice of the girl in question, throwing herself at the thick cold bars again.

He cocked his head, giving her a questionable look. "Like I said... without a trace or a witness."

Hermione ignored him and kicked the bars in rage. "LET ME OUT!" she screamed, Luna's voice echoing against the stone walls. She kicked again and again, draining what was left of her energy.

"Nobody would look twice at Luna. It's why I chose her." he said quietly, ignoring her pleas.

"That's NOT TRUE!" she shouted, her mind buzzing with confusion and anger.

Hermione stopped, sweat trickling down her forehead.

"Who are you?" she hissed for the second time.

"My name is Liam. I need your help."

"To hell with that, _let me out_."

Liam was taken aback by the rejection. He slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned, then raised his head slowly. To Hermione's horror, he was wearing a new mask - his eyes were dead again, and his face was stone cold with anger. This was the person who snatched her, and a shiver jolted up her spine. Hermione stumbled back, completely dumbfounded.

He took a step towards the cell. "Everyone you hold dear will _die_," he snarled. "Think about that."

With that, he turned on his heel and left the room, ignoring her shrieks and bangs. Hermione slid to the ground, sobbing and clenching her stomach. She felt like she was going to puke up a storm. A single thought ran through her mind.

_How am I going to get out of here?_

* * *

**[10 HOURS]**

"Where the hell is she?" Ron thought aloud, falling into a chair next to Harry in the Common Room.

Harry looked up from the Daily Prophet in his hands. "Still no luck?"

Ron shook his head and stared at the fire sulkily. They had returned to Hogwarts soon after Hermione, unable to find anything to do after Honeydukes. After a few hours without Hermione, he got suspicious and left to investigate. Now, it was nearing 10pm and there was still no sign of her.

"I checked the library twice, she's always in the bloody library," Ron muttered, pulling a chocolate frog out of his pocket and unwrapping it slowly, still wondering. "Parvati says she isn't up in their dorm... I haven't done anything to get her angry, have I?"

Harry scratched his head in thought. "I don't think so... she seemed to be okay when she left. Did you check the hospital wing?"

"I checked that right after the library," Ron said dully, stuffing the chocolate frog into his mouth. His stomach growled – he hadn't eaten since he came back.

Harry got up and stretched, throwing the Daily Prophet onto his abandoned chair. "How about we check the map?"

Ron shot up from his seat like a firecracker. "Brilliant!" he cried, following Harry up to their dormitory. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"I have a few theories..." Harry said, pulling the map out. Ron shot him a scornful look and snatched the map from his hand.

He pulled out his wand and tapped the piece of parchment. _"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_..." he recited, and watched the map reveal itself impatiently.

He and Harry raked their eyes across the map, looking for the tiny dot that read her name. Ron took the time to look at every dot and even the Hogwarts grounds, though it was unlikely she was out there, before looking up at Harry ages later, completely flabbergasted.

"She's... she's not on the map."

Where was Hermione Granger?

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**The plot thickens. Reviews are loved! Send 'em over!**


	3. Panic

**A/N** - Hello faithful readers! This is going to be the last chapter for a couple days I think, (unless I get really good ideas I must get down before I forget) because I'm swamped with school work *sigh* Enjoy!

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**[21 hours]**

The first class Ron and Harry had the next day was Potions – if there was one thing Hermione had no exceptions for, it was missing a single class. The time trickled by; fifteen minutes, half an hour, one hour, and the seat in between the two boys remained vacant. The lesson that day comprised of brewing the Draught of Living Death. Ron's potion ended up on the wrong track within minutes and he soon found the tips of his hair singed off. At the end, he grabbed his books and stormed out of the class irritably, ignoring the flurry of snickers from the Slytherins and Slughorn's cries pointing out he didn't empty his cauldron.

From the moment he woke up, his mind was stubbornly glued to Hermione's state more severely than usual. There was no way in hell, _no way_, that something wasn't wrong at this point.

"Slow down!" he heard Harry call, though he made no effort to. Harry eventually caught up, panting and looking almost as concerned as he was.

"I'm going to Dumbledore," Ron told him, pushing past a group of loitering first years brashly. If Hermione was there, she would have scolded him and insisted he apologize – as prudent as she was, an ache inside told him he missed it entirely. "Something is seriously off, Harry."

Harry nodded slowly. "If anyone can tell us what's wrong, Dumbledore will."

They hurried up to the seventh floor, disregarding the confused faces of their fellow Gryffindor classmates heading out to the greenhouses. Ron rounded a corner, regretting it immediately.

"Go back, _go back_," he hissed at Harry, stumbling on his feet, but it was already too late.

"Weasley! Potter!" McGonagall demanded sharply, lifting the hem of her tartan robes and walking briskly towards them. "What on earth are you doing up here? Your Herbology lesson has already begun outside."

"We need to see Professor Dumbledore," said Harry.

McGonagall pressed her lips together to form a thin, unwavering line. For a second, Ron had forgotten how daunting she could be. "And what, dare I ask, do you wish to see the Headmaster for?"

"Hermione's gone missing," Ron blurted out. He couldn't deal with questions upon questions, not now.

Before McGonagall could reply, he continued hurriedly. "She's been gone since she came back from Hogsmeade alone yesterday. That was noon. She isn't in her dorm and I checked the hospital wing, the grounds, the Great Hall – I checked the bloody library _twice_—"

"_Watch your language_," she said crossly, looking appalled. "Though I do find your concern for Miss Granger endearing, Weasley, I th—"

"She missed our Potions Class this morning, Professor."

Suddenly, McGonagall's eyes flashed in alarm. "Missed a class?

Ron nodded eagerly, satisfied that McGonagall realized the graveness of the situation. "She's _never_—"

"Thank you for telling me this," she said, cutting him off. "Let me handle the situation from here. Now you two, head to the greenhouses immediately."

"But—" Harry began.

"_Now_, before I gladly deduct points from Gryffindor." she demanded sharply.

Ron swore and stalked off, his mind boggled with absolute frustration. Surely a student missing for over twenty four hours would be a priority? He remembered when Ginny used to wander off years ago in the muddled paths of Diagon Alley, and his mum went ballistic within five minutes.

Without an option left, he and Harry moped off to Herbology, where they were welcomed by a less-than-happy Professor Sprout. The realization that this was a back-to-back class dawned on Ron and he groaned loudly, the little motivation he had left evaporating.

With a heavy sigh, he snapped on his goggles and began helping Harry with the Snargaluff.

* * *

**[24 hours]**

After a gruelling two hours battling the vicious Snargaluff plant and a couple of thorny vine slaps to the face later, Harry was relieved to throw on his coat, grab his bag from the stool and make his way back to the castle for lunch.

"What's the bloody hold up..." Ron muttered, craning his neck over the crowd. Harry heard the characteristic high pitched squeal of Professor Flitwick on the other side.

A shove from a rather large Hufflepuff caused many of the students to tumble out at once. Harry pushed past them to the front of the throng with Ron at his tail.

"... and classes are now cancelled for the rest of the day. Everybody back to your common rooms on Professor Dumbledore's orders!" squeaked Flitwick, waving his little arms madly.

"What's happened now? Aren't you going to tell us?" Hannah Abbott inquired, her cheeks tinged pink from the winter cold. Harry noticed a few students around her nodded eagerly, supporting her question.

"One of our students has gone missing," Flitwick added. A flurry of mutters and gasps rippled through the students. A few people glanced at Harry and Ron, taking note of the lack of a trio. "Back to the castle now, quickly!"

Professor McGonagall was waiting for them in the main entrance, looking stern and alert. "I trust Professor Flitwick has already told you – to your common rooms, and don't even think about leaving until the teachers are done meeting."

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs split their separate ways, chattering loudly and gossiping in huddles.

"Potter, Weasley!" McGonagall barked, though the two boys had no intentions of following the Gryffindors. "You two are coming with me."

* * *

Hermione held her knees to her chest, her back against the cold stone wall of the cell she was being kept hostage in. Her fever had escalated overnight, though she didn't manage a single minute of sleep. Her hair, which had long ago returned to its normal bushy brown, was plastered against her hot, sweaty face and her eyes ached with exhaustion.

'Liam' had not returned since he walked out on her. Hermione was thankful for the watch on her trembling wrist, a single token of sanity that proved that time was indeed passing and day turned to night. She welled up, remembering it was a birthday gift from Ron last year. She wondered what they were thinking right now – surely they noticed her absence. Surely the whole _castle _did...

Hermione hoped, anyway. The horrible sensation of being forgotten washed over her and, if only for a second, she felt like the eleven year old Hermione who had just started learning magic, alone and overlooked for two months before finding her friends.

Her head snapped up at the sound of the Room of Requirement's door creaking open. Liam stepped in, looking weary and tired. Hermione attempted to scramble up, but her head buzzed into a frenzy of dizziness and she slumped back down again, panting lightly.

Liam conjured a small wooden stool and sat down next to the cell, looking down at her. He seemed less violent than the last moment she saw him, and felt abnormally safer.

"The brightest witch of her age. That's what they call you, you know." he whispered. "Why weren't you sorted into Ravenclaw?"

She blinked slowly, processing his words. "Because I'm a G-Gryffindor..." she said, a hint of pride colouring her lifeless voice. "And I always will be."

He nodded slowly, accepting her answer. Hermione noticed he was fingering the necklace he was wearing – it looked like a single silver feather hanging off a thin chain.

"Hermiiione Graaanger," he said slowly, as if he were savouring the syllables. A shiver ran through her body, despite its climbing temperature. "How does it feel, when you go back home to your Muggle life in the summer?"

Hermione was bewildered. What kind of question was that, at a time like this? She eyed him, wondering whether or not finally answering his absurd questions was the key to her freedom.

"I feel like I never left sometimes," she said, thinking about her little house with the sunflower garden out front in the summer "It's my home."

Liam stared at her, his eyes blank. "Is your neighbourhood wealthy?"

"No," she replied, bemused. "Most of us are middle class."

"Ah," he said. "Not like me."

She was curious. "Are you a Muggle-born as well?"

He nodded, touching his pendant lightly. "My mother raised me alone in one of the old, ruined houses across the way from a very wealthy neighbourhood. She didn't raise me very well, what with all the substance abuse..." He trailed off, a troubled look in his eye.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione said weakly, hoping this cooperation was helping her.

"Never treated right, either, because I was one of the poorer kids... considered 'scum'," Liam said. "You know how that feels like."

"Do I?"

"Of course. All Muggle-borns do at one point."

Hermione shook her head, ignoring the pounding. "I may be a Muggle-born, and I may have had nasty things shot at me, but I've long allowed myself to look past that."

He got up suddenly, pacing the small room. His eyes darted this way and that, and he gripped his feather pendant tighter.

"How admirable," he muttered. Hermione felt slightly threatened at his sudden bout of frenzy, and held her knees closer to her chest.

He stopped pacing, his back towards her. "Tell me," he said quietly. "Have you ever lost somebody, somebody so dear to you that you feel right at home by their side, feel like whatever is going on around you, things will be okay in the end as long as you have them?"

Hermione thought of Ron. "No," she replied.

Liam turned around again, a twitchy smile on his face and a crazy gleam in his eye. "I do."

She didn't say anything, staring at him, wondering what the point of all this was.

"She was my everything, when I came back home. Last winter break, though, I came home to my useless mother out of her mind again. But that was normal. The first thing I saw by the doorway was a pile of unread newspapers..."

He looked away, and began pacing again. "Her face was on one of them. Just a tiny little section in the corner." He smiled, as if it were a fond memory. Hermione knew automatically that it wasn't. "Do you know how it feels like, to find out the person you loved more than anything was murdered the week after you left for school, on a simple town newspaper?

Hermione held her breath, not answering. His voice was taut with tension, ready to snap at any second.

"Slit throat, dumped off behind a bush like a piece of garbage," Liam spat, pacing faster. His hands flew to his head, clamping his ears, as if the room was too loud. "They figured it was a town junkie, but I knew, _I knew_ it was a couple of pretentious bastards from the posh little mansions over the way."

He paused, walking straight up to the bars and grabbing them, staring at Hermione with round, glassy eyes. "Do you want to know what I did, Hermione?"

She stared back at him, afraid to breathe. "_I slit their throats like they did Holly's_," he whispered coldly. "I wiped their own blood on their shirts and then simply returned to Hogwarts the same day."

Hermione wanted to cry. She didn't know what she did to deserve this, and she felt more afraid than she did since being locked up here.

"I have _NOTHING_," he yelled suddenly, lifting the abandoned wooden stool and whipping it against the wall. Hermione squeaked at the contact, staring hard at her feet and not into Liam's hollow eyes.

He panted, not saying anything more for a couple minutes. He looked back at Hermione, a pleasant smile on his face as if he were about to invite her for a cup of tea.

"So I need the brightest witch at Hogwarts, and together, we will bring Holly back. Questions?"

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**Reviews, perhaps? Your feedback will help me develop the next chapter better, and quicker! ;) Thanks for reading!**


	4. Interrogation

**A/N -** I lied! I was productive today, and managed to find time to write this up at school. I know how much waiting sucks, so here you go and enjoy!

* * *

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes," Ron repeated for what must have been the third time. "She left _alone_."

Ron and Harry had been ushered quickly up to Dumbledore's office, and the interrogation had begun almost immediately. They sat in front of the Headmaster's desk, where Dumbledore was peering at them over his half-moon spectacles. The Head of each house stood flanking his side, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt and another Auror Ron didn't recognize.

"And that's the last time you saw Miss Granger?" Kingsley continued, his voice a low, steady rumble.

The two boys nodded in unison. Kingsley scribbled this down onto a small notepad.

"Surely someone saw her heading back to the castle?" Professor McGonagall protested, her arms crossed tightly. Ron noticed her deep anxiety and had a sudden rush of affection for his Head of House.

Harry shook his head, his eyebrows knit. "Ron and I didn't notice anyone following her out... even when we left soon after, the path was clear of students."

The unfamiliar Auror piped up, his voice startlingly merry. "Did Miss Granger have any particular enemies at Hogwarts?"

"It is highly unlikely one of the students was behind something of this degree," Snape commented, his eyes flicking back and forth between Ron and Harry suspiciously.

"She didn't have any enemies," Ron said flatly. He felt oddly strange, sitting there with seven eyes drilling down into him. Of course he knew none of them suspected him and Harry, but the seriousness they displayed didn't help.

"Do you think this has anything to do with Voldemort?" Harry asked bluntly. Ron noticed a few of them flinch subtly at the name.

"Could very well be," the unknown Auror chirped, twirling his wand between his fingers. "The best friend of Harry Potter snatched in broad daylight - quite a coincidence if you ask me!"

Ron could not help but glare at him; he couldn't think about how any of this could be the least bit amusing.

"As pleasant as this little conversation is, shouldn't we be out there searching?" Ron argued, looking at each of their grim faces.

"Our team is combing through Hogsmeade as we speak," Kingsley replied. "As soon as this interrogation is over, Hewitt and I are heading to each of the Common Rooms and speaking with the students of each house. Finding Hermione Granger is our priority at the moment."

Ron hardly felt comforted. "There needs to be less talk and more searching, if you ask me." he said coldly.

"Ah," Dumbledore said quietly, speaking for the first time. "Information is the key to finding Miss Granger – we cannot hope to advance without knowledge."

"Has Miss Granger been secretive lately?" Hewitt pressed on. "Perhaps a significant other in her—"

"No," Ron immediately shot down the question, his defensiveness surprising even himself. "Nobody."

"Thank you for the cooperation boys," Kingsley said, flipping his notepad closed and sliding it into his thick cloak. "We're going to work fast."

He nodded towards Hewitt and the two of them walked out of the office, accompanied by McGonagall. Ron watched them leave, glad Hewitt was finally out of his hair.

"Hermione wouldn't run off, sir," said Harry. "She wouldn't."

The lines on Dumbledore's face seemed to be more defined today, Ron examined. Dumbledore looked at the two of them solemnly.

"Of course not," he said. "Miss Granger is a clever girl. Now I will ask you two to return to your common rooms in the meantime."

They nodded and rose up, making their way out of Dumbledore's adorned office.

"And for the love of all things good, don't make this any worse by getting involved," Snape said before Ron slammed the door shut in response with short-lived satisfaction.

The glance Harry gave him when they were well on their way back to the common room said it enough; getting involved is what they did for a living sometimes.

* * *

**[26 HOURS]**

Harry touched his scar lightly, grateful that the stings were becoming much less frequent than they were last year. At the same time, the guilt that was accumulating inside him was becoming awful – to think that he might have been a motive in Hermione's abduction made his heart feel like lead.

The Gryffindor Common room was deafening with chattering students packed to the brim. Kingsley and Hewitt had just exited after a quick talk with several students, including Ginny Weasley, who was seated with him and Ron in the far corner of the room.

"This is terrible," said Ginny, her eyes red from bawling them out. She sat on the ground next to Harry's chair sniffling. "Why on earth would anyone target her?"

On a regular day, Harry would have been quite flustered at the fact that Ginny Weasley was leaning her head against his knee, but the loss of Hermione changed them. Ron was suddenly moodier and always on an edge, whereas Ginny's eyes brimmed with tears at anything related to Hermione.

"No idea," Harry replied, his voice deadpan. He replayed the last moments he saw Hermione – in the busy joke shop, her putting on her gloves, her coughs, a weak smile and then she disappeared into the snow without a trace. He shook his head – they needed some kind of solid link.

As if it were an answer to his prayer, the room's door opened and Kingsley Shacklebolt locked eyes with him. The three of them sprung up, out into the corridor to avoid the other Gryffindors eavesdropping.

"What is it?" Ron said eagerly, eying the item stuffed in Kingsley's hand. Harry felt his stomach drop – he didn't think Ron caught the grim expression on Kingsley's face, but this wasn't good news like they hoped.

Kingsley opened up his hand, revealing a wet, red glove. Harry stared at it – it was the same kind of glove she wore to Hogsmeade.

"The other Aurors found this near the mouth of Hogsmeade, in between two shacked up shops. Do you recognize it?"

"That's Hermione's," Ginny whispered, grabbing the glove and flipping the inside of it, revealing a tiny 'H.G' stitched in. "She told me her m-mum made them for her..."

Harry looked at Ron – his face was emotionless. "What else?" Ron said, staring at Hermione's abandoned glove. "What else did you find?"

Kingsley looked uncomfortable and cleared his throat. "A few drops of blood were found near the glove belonging to her."

Ginny let out a grief-stricken wail and turned to lay her face against Harry's chest, hiding her tears. Harry hesitated before putting his hand on her back, trying to soothe her. He didn't know what to make of what Kingsley just said and the hollow feeling in his gut intensified.

He turned to his left, but Ron was already long gone.

* * *

Ron couldn't handle it. He walked away, unable to face Harry or his sister with tears in his eyes, walking aimlessly before sliding down on to the ground on the seventh floor and burying his head into his knees.

_I should have came back with her,_ Ron thought, his eyes sore. _I should have kept her safe._

He heard quick footsteps approaching to his right, but made no move to look up. If it was a teacher demanding him to go back to the common room, Ron felt sorry for them because he would probably lash out the built him pressure inside of him at whoever it was.`

The steps slowed down before coming to an immediate stop. Curious, Ron looked up to see a rather stringy boy hovering over him.

"Ron Weasley, right?" he said, offering him a thoughtful smile. He looked older, maybe a seventh year, and his blue and bronze tie indicated he belonged to Ravenclaw.

"I heard what happened," he said, lowering his voice. "She was really nice."

"How do you know?" he replied suspiciously, getting to his feet. The boy was nearly his height, but he stood awkwardly and kept touching his hair.

"She was in the library a lot, like me. She let me borrow her quill once." He shifted nervously on his feet. "I hope they find her."

"So do I," Ron muttered, stuffing his hands into his pocket.

The boy nodded. "I better be off now, Flitwick only sent me out for a minute. All the best, mate."

He turned on his heel and began to walk off before Ron blurted out a question, unable to help himself. The boy was peculiar, but he seemed harmless enough.

"What's your name?"

He stopped, and turned his head. "Liam. Liam Woodsworth."

With that, he ducked around a corner and vanished.

* * *

Ron walked back to the Common Room, only to discover that the temporary lock-down had finished and the students filed down to the Great Hall for a much needed dinner. As he walked towards the entrance of the Great Hall, he noticed a disturbance – students were rushing into it with panicked expressions, and the buzz of the people inside was intense. Slughorn was ushering students in, his silver moustache frizzled with frenzy.

Ron hurried inside, where the Heads of Houses tried calming their students down. Some of the Slytherin girls were weeping, whereas other Slytherins were wailing, demanding their parents come pick them up the next morning. He pushed past people towards his table and locked eyes with Harry, who looked troubled.

"What's happened?" Ron panted, taking in the outbreak of panic and fear around him. "_What's happened?_"

Harry gulped. "Pansy Parkinson is... _dead_."

Ron blinked. Before he could understand what he just heard, Harry continued on with a lowered voice.

"Her throat was slit on the first floor when we were meant to be out of sight. Ron... you're one of the only students that had _left their common room_."

* * *

**How about a collective '_oh shit!'_ THANKS FOR READING AND PLEASE REVIEW! Another chapter may be up tomorrow if you're lucky, this week seems to be promising (for the love of all things that are good, please let there be a snow day tomorrow..)**


	5. Holly

**A/N** - So there wasn't a snow day *grumble* but I managed to write this up today. Enjoy!

* * *

Liam closed the door behind him lightly and turned around, examining Hermione Granger's motionless body within her cell. Her hair was more frizzled than before and she sat with her back against the wall, staring at the wall opposite her with blank eyes. He cleared his throat, and her eyes unstuck, a bit of emotion returning to them.

"I brought you things to eat," Liam said, pulling out a bag of various foods he took from the Great Hall. He noticed her eyes light up keenly and she wobbled up to her feet, keeping her face looking neutral. He wasn't fooled, though.

Before he could stop it, sudden anger ballooned up inside of him and he swallowed hard, his lip twitching. Liam hated this part, but he couldn't help it sometimes – it certainly paid off when it was time to get things done, but the miserable entrapment of his normal nature never truly disappeared.

"Stand _back_," he demanded coldly. Hermione gulped and did as she was told. He took his wand and unlocked the cage, throwing the bag in before quickly slamming the door shut with a clang.

"Your cooperation determines your freedom," he continued, glaring at her. She ignored him and lifted the bag up, clearly disappointed at her thwarted attempt at escaping. Liam took a deep breath and felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders – he rubbed his arms, happy to have returned.

Hermione took a bite of a muffin and slumped back to the ground. She must have been starving after nearly a day and a half of no food, but it was too risky to have brought it before.

_This is getting risky,_ he thought to himself, watching her devour another muffin. _But there's no backing out at this point. I've done the damage._

"Tell me about her," Hermione said unexpectedly. Her voice was cracked and hoarse from hours of silence. Liam felt the knife buried in his abdomen for over a year twist a little, but maybe that will help. Talking.

"Holly," he whispered, picturing her thick, brown plaited hair and rosy cheeks. "She... she had blue eyes."

And blue they were. Liam remembered the last summer they shared, and Holly told him they made her look ordinary. He disagreed – they were lovely, the brightest of all the colours. He made sure she knew. She laughed but accepted the compliment anyway.

"She was always laughing," he continued, his vision becoming blurry as he looked to the past. "Though she had every reason to cry. Her father and grandparents all died in a car crash and she was raised by her mother. They lived near my own mother and I."

"So she was a Muggle?" he heard Hermione's distant voice ask.

He nodded slowly. "I never told her I was a wizard. If she believed it, it would have made her feel incompetent. Different. Lesser. So I said I went to a regular boarding school in Wales."

Together, they were the two 'unfortunate' kids of Rickshaw Valley. As children, they were picked on for their patchy clothes and lack of quality toys. As they got older, it became more physical and Liam found himself returning home with a bruised lip or a black eye. No one was there to heal him – his mother watched the telly in the basement most of the day, drinking until she passed out. It's always been like that since his father left, but he didn't remember him.

Liam took a deep breath before he continued. "When I came to Hogwarts, I promised her I'd send her loads of post, and she the same. We kept that promise as each year flew by, and when we were reunited in the summertime, it was like I never left her."

"So you loved her," Hermione said, pulling out a piece of shepherd's pie.

He nodded morbidly. "It grew to that eventually. She was my everything but she didn't know it. I kept it a secret, in case telling her meant damaging our friendship permanently if she didn't feel the same."

"I started my sixth year at Hogwarts. September, October, November flew by and I hadn't gotten a single letter from Holly. I started to worry, but convinced myself that she was busy with her studies. She did say they were going to get worse..."

Liam felt a pang as he approached what had eaten at his soul for the last year, but in a way, he felt at bay talking aloud about it, as if he were confirming he wasn't insane and making stories up in his head.

"It was time for winter break and I headed home. It felt like a light-switch turned on inside me when I knew it was time to see Holly again..." he trailed off.

"But I only returned home to find out she was stolen from me. Gone. _Dead_."

Hermione had stopped eating. Liam appreciated her attention. It was nice, for a change.

"I can't explain how I felt. I was angry. I was lost. Sad, broken. To be honest, words don't explain it. I felt it a week later, a month later... I feel it right now. The light-switch has remained off since."

He ran a hand through his hair and blew out an uneven sigh. "I knew who they were. I knew the only reason they must have done it was simply because they felt she was scum, and they were above her. So I did unto them what they did to her. It was logical." He paused. "I don't regret it one bit."

It was logical, indeed. It was already a blood stained world out there, and who was he to deny it?

"I hate being a Muggle-born wizard, Hermione," he muttered. "I experience the same thing in the Wizarding world as I do in the Muggle world when you think about it; pretentious pure-bloods who spit on Muggle-borns, it's simply because of status." He paced the room, which had become a chronic habit of his - he could never stay completely still.

"I need her back," he continued, a desperate twinge to his voice. "I have this magical ability for a reason and I _need her back_."

Hermione shook her head from behind the bars. "If you've ever learned anything at Hogwarts, you'd know bringing back life is _impossible_—"

"It _isn't_!" he shouted, grabbing the feather pendent hanging on his neck for consultation. It belonged to Holly, and he hasn't taken it off since he retrieved it. "There's always Dark Magic. I've read about it – experiments done by wizards like Voldemort, that haven't been certified but—"

"No," Hermione said quietly, looking weary. "There's a reason they haven't succeeded. Accept her death."

Liam snapped. His mind throbbed and he snatched a blade out of his pocket, blind with a white hot rage. He grabbed one of the bars of the cell, twirling the blood stained blade in his hand and stared hard at Hermione.

"I will never accept her death. She hasn't left me. I hear her _every day_," he hissed, his knuckles turning white. His head pounded, and whatever comfort he felt seconds ago from his conversation drained him completely, exposing his unremorseful, violent quality.

Hermione looked up at his blade, horrified. "Who's blood is that?" she whispered quietly.

"The blood of a miscreant, slandering our kind," he replied with a grin, feeling great satisfaction as reflected upon the recent assault. "Isn't it nice, to know we have one less ignorant pure-blood to worry about?"

"You're MAD!" Hermione shouted, her lip quivering. "You can't just start _killing_ innocent people because of a simple insult, you _can't_—"

He laughed, ringing the blade against the bars. "They're not innocent, don't lie to yourself. I know how you feel—"

"Don't compare me to you," she said coldly. "You're a psychopath. We're _nothing_ alike."

He gave her a wide, Cheshire smile and caressed the blade lightly. "Oh but we are, Hermione. We _are_."

* * *

**And now I have to study for my brutal chemistry test. I'd love it if you took the time to review this chapter! :) Merci!**


	6. Closer

**A/N **- Sorry for the lack of an update after a steady stream of them. Enjoy!

* * *

**[35 HOURS]**

"They can't possibly suspect me, of _all people_..."

After getting the students settled in the Great Hall, Dumbledore ordered all the Heads to escort their students back to their Common Rooms. Irritation from having to be locked up in the Common Room again was blocked out by terror and alarm – the murder of Pansy Parkinson had come as an unsuspected catalyst to the situation already at hand. Several Aurors stationed in Hogsmeade were ordered up to the castle and one stood grimly outside each of the Common Rooms, ensuring no students left.

As Ron followed the rest of the Gryffindors back to the tower, he couldn't help noticing many students shooting him a wary glance. Other than Harry, only Neville and Ginny seemed to think he had nothing to do with this. Before they had left the hall, Ron heard a voice behind him say "You know what they say... guilty until proven innocent." He didn't have to turn around, Malfoy's drawl was recognizable enough.

"Of course not," Neville said. The four of them sat as far away from the others as possible, avoiding eavesdroppers.

"You should have just stayed with us!" said Ginny, her eyes red. It was probably the most upset Ron had seen her in years. "This is _serious_, Ron!"

"Don't you think I _know_ that?" he accused. His eyes kept darting to the doorway, expecting an Auror to come drag him away for more questioning. He was trying to hide it, but nervousness bubbled inside him and the lump in his throat had ballooned. Ron tried to swallow it down.

"Who do you think did this?" Neville whispered, his eyebrows furrowed anxiously. "Pansy Parkinson didn't do anything, did she?"

"Don't think so," said Harry. "Better question – is it related to Hermione's disappearance?"

"It's got to be," Ron muttered, glancing at the entrance. "It's too much of a coincidence."

The others nodded and stayed silent after that. Ron was lost in deep thought – it couldn't have been a stranger who killed Pansy. They would have looked out of place and someone would have noticed. Ron shared his thoughts to his friends.

"That's true," Harry pondered. "Maybe they were disguised?"

Before anyone could reply, the portrait door opened and Kingsley beckoned them out. The four of them shot up before noticing Kingsley's two fingers. Ginny and Neville plopped back down, disappointed. Ron saw Harry shoot them an apologetic look before they hastened out of the room. Ron tried not to make eye contact with any Gryffindors as they all watched the two boys leave, but it proved difficult.

"It wasn't me!" Ron cried when they were safely out in the empty corridor. "Honestly I—"

"We know."

Ron stopped mid-rant, stunned. "You...do?"

Kingsley nodded. "We've deduced the time of death was before you went off on your own – it probably happened when we were making our rounds to the other Common Rooms."

Ron experienced a cool wave of relief. He didn't think he could handle the added pressure of becoming a _suspect _when it was his best friend who was missing.

"However," Kingsley continued seriously, his rumble of a voice lowering although the corridor was clearly deserted. "I must ask you if you saw anyone else."

Ron frowned, thinking back. He still struggled to wrap his head around all that happened in the last couple days. "No... I mean, I walked on my own... do ghosts count?"

Kingsley shook his head. "That's all I wanted to ask. I appreciate your hon—"

"Wait!" he said, slapping a hand to his forehead. How could he have forgotten? God, he was so clueless sometimes.

"I saw someone," he went on. Kingsley whipped out his notepad and quill, his eyes fixed sharply on his face. Harry stared at him, waiting.

"A student. Ravenclaw, he was wearing the colours. I was sitting on the seventh floor and... and he said he hoped Hermione was found soon. Then he left." Ron paused. "And I went back to the Common Room."

"Do you know him?"

"No, I never really noticed him before. But I asked what his name was..."

"And?" Harry questioned.

Ron thought hard, struggling to remember. _Come on, don't forget now... Levi? _

"I don't remember, it started with an L," he finally said, annoyed with himself. "But I remember his face! I would know him if I saw him again." he added quickly.

Kingsley nodded slowly, sliding his note pad back into his cloak.

"This is extremely important information you've given me," he announced. "And right now, it's one of our few leads."

"Merlin's Beard, you don't think _he_ has something to do with this?" Ron cried, bemused. The guy looked more harmless than Neville, and that was saying a lot. _What a joke_, he thought.

"We're going to find out. Let's go."

"Where to?"

Kingsley began to walk off. "The Ravenclaw Common Room."

* * *

Hermione jumped when Liam suddenly came back ten minutes later, slamming the door shut behind him. After their last conversation, he hurried out to address 'unfinished business'. She didn't think he'd return until the next day, but there he was, panting hard with a wild expression plastered on his pale face.

"Get up," he demanded. She looked up at him, her eyes sore and head light from lack of sleep.

He walked briskly to the corner of the room and bent down, struggling with something. Hermione rose to her feet, using the wall as support.

"What are you doing?" she mumbled, edging closer to the bars. Liam grunted, removing something and heaving it to the side. _A sewer plate? _

Liam stood up – sure enough, a gaping hole was revealed.

_How did I not notice that before? _She wondered. But the plate was stone, just like the patchy stone ground. It blended in very well.

"What's happening?" Hermione asked him.

"We're leaving. Now."

"_Leaving_? Where? Why?"

Liam blew out an exasperated breath slowly. "None of your business."

Hermione glared at him. The Room of Requirement was not safe anymore, but why? Perhaps she was close to being found. A flicker of hope was lit inside of her. _This is my chance_.

"Open this up, then."

Liam closed his eyes and his lips curved upward. "You wish."

Before she could respond, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at her, unwavering.

"_Imperio_."

And with that, her mind was reduced to a blank, airy tablet.

* * *

**Send me some reviews, please and thank you! I hope to update this soon.** :)


	7. Hoodwinked

**A/N **- Sorry for the long wait, exam week is looming; enjoy the new chapter!

**UPDATE Jan/26** - I said I'd update Sunday or Monday, but I am swamped with studying. Exams are over on Jan/28 so expect an update that day. Thanks!

* * *

Though the Ravenclaw Common Room was at the base of a tower just like Gryffindor's, their room was remarkably different. The room was large and circular with windows arched high against the back wall. Soft, blue curtains flanked each window and Ron could see the looming mountains through a small sliver. He looked up and noticed the ceiling was domed and decorated with stars that resembled glittering gold beetles.

Many of the Ravenclaws were seated in the chairs when they arrived, whispering in tight knit groups. A few of them gasped at the site of the two boys, and others frowned, as if a secret was spoiled. Ron shifted in place nervously – if a student from a different house was in Gryffindor's room, he'd be bewildered too.

"I need everyone to listen carefully," Kingsley boomed, his eyes sweeping the room. "These Gryffindors are here to identify a student—"

That did it. The Ravenclaws all began to talk at once, looking around at their fellow students and shaking their heads. Many of them looked displeased.

"You can't be _serious_!" a boy Ron recognized to be Michael Corner shouted. "You ought to be checking the Slytherins—"

There was an uproar of agreement. Ravenclaws that were up in their dorms trickled out of the stairwell, joining the pandemonium. A large, white marble statue of a woman stood by the dorm door, which Ron assumed to be the house founder.

"Wasn't _he_ out of his room? I think you should be questioning _him_." The tiny Ravenclaw girl raised her chin at Ron, her curls bouncing.

Ron scowled at her. She should be counting her lucky stars that she was a girl.

"Okay _okay_, calm down everyone!" Kingsley said, walking around slowly. He beckoned Harry and Ron to follow.

"Locate him," he added lowly. Ron nodded and began to examine each boy's face, ignoring the glares they shot at him.

"You ought not to frighten the first years, I'm sure they're innocent," an airy voice piped up behind him. Ron turned, only to be greeted by Luna's wide protuberant eyes.

"Hello Luna," Harry said. "Where've you been lately?"

Luna blinked and cocked her head, her radish earrings dangling. Ron couldn't remember the last time he actually saw her blink. "I've been in the Hospital Wing the past week – they said it was a fever, but I'm sure it was an alien strain of dragon pox."

Ron nodded slowly, accepting her story to be true for her sake. He'd grown fond of Luna, despite her peculiar theories.

"Luna I need your help," he said, ignoring several eavesdroppers. "I'm looking for a bloke, tall like me, brown hair, a bit unusual, maybe seventh year—"

"Liam?" she said, cutting him off with a mildly surprised look.

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed, the memory flooding back to him. _Liam. Liam Woodsworth_. "Where is he?"

Luna turned on her heel, making a slow 360 degree spin. "Odd! He doesn't seem to be here."

"You're _sure_?" Harry said. "Look again."

Luna shook her head after another look around. "Liam is usually by himself, you see. No one is alone here. Perhaps he's in his dormitory." She paused. "How do you know it was him?"

"I don't," Ron explained, remembering the boy's keen, forest green eyes. "I just saw him out in the corridors alone and Kingsley wants a word with him."

Luna smiled, fiddling with her cork necklace. "He doesn't like questions much."

"Did you know him well?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no. I've talked to him all but a few times. He is kind of like me, you see." Her silvery eyes gleamed. "A bit off."

Kingsley was suddenly upon them, having heard the last few snippets of the conversation. "No one is up in the dorms now. When was the last time you saw him?"

Luna put a finger to her mouth. "Not for a couple weeks. I only got out of the Hospital Wing this morning—"

"That is a _lie_."

The group froze, turning to stare at a girl sitting near a tall bookshelf. Ron instantly recognized her, since her twin sister was a fellow classmate – Padma Patil.

"What are you going on about?" Ron accused, defending Luna's stance. Luna may be odd, but she wasn't a liar and he trusted her as much as he trusted his best friends.

Padma tossed her long, thick braid and glared at Luna, who simply stared back, amused. "You were with him just a couple days ago. I saw you."

"That's hardly possible, as Luna was sick in the Hospital Wing all week." Harry said dryly.

"No," Padma protested. "You came back inside with him the day of the Hogsmeade trip. I-I walked right past you. And- and –" She bowed her head, frowning hard at the blue carpet.

"Well?" Ron said impatiently. Padma looked troubled and lost in her memory. He hadn't talked to her since he took her to the Yule Ball a couple years prior – he thought of his feud with Hermione because of it and shook the bad recollection away.

"You weren't wearing your earrings, or y-your necklace..." Padma got up and paced slowly, a hand on her forehead. What was she talking about?

Ron strode up to her and placed his hands on her shoulder, looking hard at her. "_Tell me_."

She looked up at him, and he was startled to look find her eyes were rimmed with tears.

"I'm so _stupid_." She whispered.

"What is it?" Harry said quickly, sensing her trouble as well as Ron did. The Common Room had gone dead silent, and the Ravenclaws were staring at them, holding their breaths. Ron could have sliced the thick tension in the air with a knife.

"You were wearing a G-_Gryffindo_r scarf under your cloak," she breathed, looking wide eyed at Luna. "But I didn't think anything of it because – because you always do weird things a-and you wear that Gryffindor hat to Quidditch games and I just _ignored_ it, if it was anyone _but_ you—" She trailed off, the worry lines on her forehead prominent.

"Ah," Luna said softly. "It wasn't me and Liam... it was Hermione—"

"—disguised as you." Ron finished quietly. A whirlwind of thoughts stormed through his head, and he felt dizzy. His breathing became quick and the atmosphere around settled with a dark gloom as they realization washed over them like a tide.

"She's been here the whole time." Harry murmured, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"Where, though? This castle is crawling with Aurors, there hasn't been an unchecked room." said Kingsley.

Ron gulped hard and shook his head. "There's one."

The undetectable room, the only room most people didn't know about. Available when you're thirsty with need, and disappearing when the duty was done. No wonder he couldn't find Hermione on the map the day she vanished – she was in the _Room of Requirement_.

He looked at Harry wildly, who nodded and understood him. Without another word, the two of them raced out of the room, leaving the Ravenclaws puzzled and Padma frozen with guilt.

They ran. Ron ignored the pounding in his head. She was here, right under their noses. How could they have all been so blind? The corridors were empty, the path towards Hermione uninterrupted. The two boys climbed another set of stairs, making their way to the seventh floor.

The seventh floor. It was where Ron met Liam. He had been sitting there, and Hermione was a mere distance away. He ran faster.

Harry and Ron skidded to a stop in front of the blank wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry looked at him, panting hard.

"What now?" he cried.

Ron blinked. "He would need a place to keep someone safe. To keep them hostage. That's what the room must have turned into."

He stepped back and concentrated hard. Then, he began to pace.

_I need a place where someone was kept hostage.  
I need a place where someone was kept hostage.  
I need a place where someone was kept hostage._

Ron stopped, and stared wide eyed at the door that materialized in front of him. Without a second thought, he pushed it open and stumbled inside.

The room was small and dingy, grey stone floor and walls. A single fire hung on the wall, flickering and casting shadows across the room. It was sliced in half by thick, iron bars, creating a wide entrapment on the other side, ideal to keep someone imprisoned. The cell's door was left ajar - a bag and a couple wrappers were littered inside.

Panting, Ron took a step inside the cell, picking a small item up. He showed it to Harry with a shaky hand.

Hermione's other red glove, stained dark with what must have been blood – it was streaked, as if she had wiped blood away.

With a fit of rage, Ron kicked the cage door, letting it crash shut with a bang. His hands curled up tightly and he slammed a fist into the wall, his eyes screwed shut and stingy with tears. He let Hermione down – she was here the _whole time_. The helplessness and guilt inside him swallowed him up and he tried to hold back his tears.

Before he could injure his hand again, Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Ron struggled against him, white hot anger blinding him.

"Let GO of me, Harry!" he bellowed, letting his hair fall into his face. "_Let – me – GO_—"

"_Stop it_, Ron!" Harry yelled back even louder. "Do you think Hermione would have—"

At the mention of her name, Ron went limp and surrendered, sinking to his knees. He breathed hard, trying to blink the self hate back.

"I talked to him," he croaked hoarsely, his voice shaking. "I let him walk away. He called me _mate_."

Harry knelt next to him and Ron placed his head down, tears flowing freely into the shoulder of his best friend. Harry patted him on the shoulder gently.

Ron knew Harry felt deep mourning as well – their trio was broken, and in turn, they were broken themselves.

* * *

**Depressing, I know. I might update this tomorrow or Monday! Thanks so much for reading and please review! :)**

**p.s** - I've only been on for 20 days with a real username, and the amount of reviews and hits I've gotten are ridiculous. I never thought this many people would be interested in what I write in such a short amount of time. The same people tend to review my stories on a regular basis, and I'm honestly so grateful! They include:

_rhmac12_  
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_carolinaaxo_  
_Avanell_  
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Thanks guys!

As a result, I've decided to review the most recent story of anyone who reviews me (if they have one), no matter what fandom it is. I feel like it's only fair, and I'm sure I'll polish up my reviewing skills as well ;P

Cheers!

-heylooklisten


	8. Rickshaw

**A/N** - Hello everyone! Sorry for the long wait, but exams are over now and chapters will be coming more frequently. Enjoy and don't forget to review!

* * *

**[80 HOURS]**

Tick.

Tick.

Tick... tick... tick.

_That sound. Where is that coming from?_

Tick... tick... tick.

_Has this all been a dream?_

Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she focused on the ceiling above her. Wood.

_Wood? Hogwarts isn't..._

And the events of the last few days– how long _had_ it been? – came crashing down on her like a ruthless, cold wave. Hogsmeade. Assault. The Room of Requirement. Liam. _Ron_.

She continued staring at the ceiling, struggling to recall what happened next. She remembered being let out, but it was a translucent haze. His wand had been pointed at her. Did he... did he cast a spell? The last image her mind could offer was walking down a dark, earthy tunnel before spiralling down to blackness.

So where was she now?

Hermione propped herself up on her elbows slowly, ignoring her light-headedness. She was in a tiny, plain room adorned with a single bookshelf and a large, ancient looking clock hanging above the closed doorway. She was lying on a small bed underneath a circular window, pale blue curtains that matched the walls tied aside, letting the winter sun spill in. The sheets were plain and white, characterless like the room around her.

She scrambled up on her knees and squinted out the window – the only thing that welcomed her was a small field, and beyond that, a thick forest blanketed under snow.

Hermione swung her legs off the bed, confused. She didn't recognize this house, nor the area that surrounded it. Even the clothes she was wearing were not the ones she remembered being in – plain trousers and a white shirt. The euphoria that was building up inside her at the thought of finally being saved diminished away slowly. Surely someone would have been at her bedside, she thought, a lump forming in her throat at the sudden thought of Ron.

Tick... tick... tick.

So that's what was making the sound, Hermione thought, eyeing the large clock, wooden like the bedroom. One-o-clock in the afternoon. She looked down at her wrist suddenly and breathed a sigh of relief – her small, silver watch was still strapped around it, a happy reminder that she was still, indeed, Hermione Granger.

She got up and opened the door slowly, afraid of what may be waiting for her on the other side. But it was only a straight, narrow corridor. Hermione cringed.

The corridor was dark, musty and the wallpaper was peeling off. Shards of glass and other broken materials lay scattered up until the end of the corridor. The small light that illuminated it flickered, and she could have sworn she saw a rat dash around the corner. It was a 180 degree turn compared to the room behind her.

Mustering up her courage, she stepped out, avoiding stepping on the glass. She looked down and saw her reflection in one of the larger shards – her face looked thinner and washed out. She noticed the blood that used to cake most of it was gone and there was even a bandage where the deep gash used to be. _Someone_ was taking good care of her.

She looked up again and felt her heart leap up to her throat – Liam loomed an inch away from her, staring at her with blank eyes.

She breathed hard, the adrenaline from the fright still coursing through her. So Liam was still keeping her hidden.

"You're awake," he said bleakly, stuffing his hands into his pocket. His eyes looked tired and the dark circles under them were more prominent then she'd ever seen them.

She took a cautious step back. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugged, the flickering light casting their shadows across the narrow hall. "You've been asleep an awfully long time."

"How long?"

"Forty-two hours, sixteen minutes."

Hermione was baffled. "How is that even possible?"

"I gave you a sleeping potion. You've refused to sleep since we met, and I suppose it's caught up now..."

"Met," she muttered under her breath. "Against my own will. Where am I?"

He shifted uncomfortably. Hermione was glad he seemed somewhat normal today, unlike the miserable, bitter enemy she usually had to face. Underneath his psychotic tendencies and hostility, he looked quite handsome in a unique way. It was a pity.

"We should sit," he finally said, leading her to a tiny kitchen – the whole house seemed to be very small and run down. The rusty faucet was dripping onto a tower of dirty dishes and most cupboard doors were hanging on a hinge. Moths fluttered around the light here as well, which was flickering even worse than the corridor's.

Liam sat on a small stool next to a circular table, and looked up at her, expecting her to sit. Hermione looked around nervously. What was this wrecked home, and did Liam trust her enough not to simply dash out the door here?

She took a deep breath, deciding resilience would only make him snap. Hermione sat down on the stool opposite him – it wobbled unevenly.

"What is this?" she breathed, staring hard into his pools of green.

He looked around mildly, as if he didn't know himself. "This is my home."

"Your home?" Hermione cried. "Why have you brought me here?"

He blinked slowly. "It's the only place I know other than Hogwarts. And I can't go back there anymore."

"Why not?" she asked, dreading the answer she knew was coming.

He picked up a chipped mug sitting on the table and sipped its contents. "They were close – too close. They know."

Hermione looked away, tears stinging her eyes, fists clamped in her lap. They were close. Ron and Harry almost had her back. Had they come into the Room of Requirement? Perhaps it was mere minutes after she left... she fought back tears, missing her friends more than she ever had in her life.

"Why?" she whispered, looking back at him with bleary eyes. "What purpose can someone like _me_ serve _you_?"

He stood up abruptly and walked across the kitchen, crouching down and pulling something wrapped up from the cupboard under the sink. Hermione noticed his wand sticking out of his sweater pocket and wondered whether or not he still had her own wand. He came back and slid a bundled package across the table to her, his sharp eyes not leaving her face.

Hermione broke the eye contact and unravelled the newspaper wearily. His hand brushed across hers and he automatically flipped to the tenth page. He sat back down, looking pointedly at the paper to answer her question.

She read the headline on the tiny article, left forgotten on the corner of the page.

"_Sixteen year old girl murdered in Rickshaw Valley."_

She fell silent. The seconds slugged by.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed Chapter 8! Don't forget to review, I appreciate every single one :)**

p.s - I know this story is really suspenseful, and cliffhangers make you want to headdesk, but you'll thank me later that things didn't get rushed. Stories are meant to reveal information in sections, and develop slowly, so hang on tightly. It's only Ch. 8! Things will get crazier soon enough.

-heylooklisten


	9. Profile

**A/N** - Enjoy the new chapter, everyone, and I hope you had a great weekend!

* * *

As the week dragged by, the atmosphere in Hogwarts shifted considerably. What used to be a friendly safe haven transformed to become an abandoned castle, lacking spirit and warmth. Though classes had resumed, the smiles that used to decorate many of the students' faces had vanished and the corridors were completely empty when classes were over. While Gryffindors mourned the disappearance of Hermione Granger, the other houses had their own reasons to stay solemn – the Slytherins had lost one of their members forever. The Ravenclaws reflected on the fact that they had harboured a potential killer, that one of their own had cracked. Even the Hufflepuffs, who were usually cheerful and vibrant by nature, were sucked dry of their qualities with the situation at hand.

Liam Woodsworth was no longer a threat to Hogwarts since he left, but no one dropped their guard. Ron began a trend of secluding himself from the rest of the united Gryffindors – he'd grown touchy, and felt it was best. It wasn't like he was abandoning Harry – he still had Ginny.

The following Sunday, exactly a week since the incident, the Aurors returned to Hogwarts. After collecting everything they could, they returned to the Ministry to process their information and develop the next steps. Ron gritted his teeth at the thought – that was another week wasted.

He was alone up in the dormitory, lying on his four-poster and staring at the ceiling with hooded eyes when someone opened the door.

"The Aurors are back," said Harry, his voice monotone. "We've been called to a classroom on the fourth floor."

Ron peeled himself off the bed reluctantly. He didn't know whether or not he wanted to hear what they had to say – what if it was a conclusion? A 'we're terribly sorry for your loss, but...' speech? He didn't want to believe it. Ron swallowed the lump his throat and followed Harry out of the room.

As they crossed the Common Room, some Gryffindors watched them leave, offering them sympathetic looks. Ron cast his eyes downward, avoiding catching anyone's eye. He wondered how many of them had already lost hope.

He and Harry walked down to the fourth floor, each echoing footstep more agonizing than the last. As usual, each corridor was vacant, with the exception of a ghost drifting through. He didn't know whether or not he'd feel a ghost pass through him at this point – his body already felt stiff and icy.

Ron heard a low murmur from inside of the classroom when they arrived. Harry turned to look at him.

"She's safe," he insisted fiercely. "Don't worry. She's safe."

"Yeah..." Ron replied hoarsely, and he opened the door.

The murmurs stopped and everyone turned to address them. The first person Ron noticed was Dumbledore, his face looking more aged than ever. Many of the professors were present, including the Heads of Houses, some of whom were wearing their sleeping gowns. They all stood huddled on one side, with the Aurors on the other. Among them included Kinglsey and Hewitt once again, but Tonks also stood by, snowflakes still dotting her bubblegum pink hair.

"Wotcher!" Tonks said, breaking the silence. "We were waiting for you two."

"Yes," Dumbledore continued quietly. "You were the closest to Miss Granger and it's fitting you be a part of this. The door, if you may."

Ron closed the door behind him and went to stand off to the side of the Hogwarts faculty with Harry, swallowing hard. The tension in the room seemed to have thickened at their arrival.

Kingsley cleared his throat. "It's been suspected that a Hogwarts student is behind the events of the past week. My team and I have developed a sort of profile to help our investigation, and hopefully this information will lead us to the recovery of Hermione Granger."

Tonks stepped forward. "Liam Woodsworth is a Ravenclaw in seventh year. On January 5th, he snatched Miss Granger near the mouth of Hogsmeade next to an abandoned shop – we confirmed this after the discovery of a piece of clothing that belonged to her, as well as the disturbed area of snow with two pairs of footsteps. Several drops of her blood were also identified."

McGonagall sniffed loudly, her arms crossed tightly and her head bowed. Professor Sprout patted her arm, looking equally upset.

"Padma Patil of Gryffindor House claimed that she saw Woodsworth enter the castle with Luna Lovegood, a fellow Ravenclaw, about fifteen minutes after Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley say Miss Granger exited the joke shop," Hewitt continued, wand behind his ear and dark hair swept violently from wind. "However, Luna Lovegood was in the Hospital Wing for much of that week. Woodsworth had probably concealed Miss Granger's identity with Polyjuice Potion."

"She was kept in the Room of Requirement, a secret room in the castle, until Woodsworth sensed danger in the air and fled the castle, taking Miss Granger with him." Kingsley finished.

There was a pause as everyone digested the information. Ron looked around the room – he recognized it to be his old History of Magic class, probably the most boring class he took at his time in Hogwarts. Hermione thought it was fascinating, though. He reflected glumly on when she badgered Professor Binns on the Chamber of Secrets – it was her that always figured things out. The brain of the trio.

Kingsley took a deep breath before continuing on. "After talking to several classmates who knew Woodsworth, we've deduced that something happened to him that triggered this bout of violence. He became detached from his peers about a year ago and demonstrated instability. Many students used the word 'weird' and 'psychotic' to describe him."

"And what of Miss Parkinson?" Snape interrupted, black eyes fixed on the Aurors. Ron narrowed his eyes – of course he only cared about his own Slytherins.

"We were just getting to that," Tonks piped up. "Now, Woodsworth is a muggle-born. This may suggest why he slit Miss Parkinson's throat, a common way Muggles kill as opposed to magic. Miss Parkinson, regrettably, ridiculed Muggles publicly, and this might have set off Woodsworth after the high of abducting Miss Granger." She paused. "The reason he may have chosen Miss Granger is that she herself is a Muggle-born, and hopefully, that fact will keep her alive."

Ron frowned. If her blood was found in two places, that would mean he was _hurting_ her at least. That could easily escalate. He didn't notice his hands were in tight fists by his side the whole time and tried to relax them, which proved difficult.

"The students must not know about that bit of information, or pure bloods left and right will start panicking," McGonagall said, her lips a straight, sharp line. The other Professors murmured in agreement.

"Is there a motive? Do you know?" Flitwick squeaked. Ron noticed he in particular looked more disturbed than his colleagues. Ron figured that this was because the suspect in question came from Flitwick's own house – the shame on his face was undeniable.

The three Aurors shook their heads.

"The main motive for abduction is usually because the abductor in question wants something," answered Hewitt. "What Woodsworth _wants_, we don't know, but we're putting our full effort into this investigation."

"So where are they now?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse.

Tonks tried to smile sympathetically, but she gave up, her mouth curving down. "We don't have a lead. We checked Woodsworth's home in Northern England, a small area called Rickshaw Valley, but that apparently burned down around Christmas – his family is untraceable, and we don't know if they've moved elsewhere without notice."

Ron set his jaw, irritated. So they didn't have a lead. Brilliant. _Some Aurors_, he thought.

"Though Woodsworth has been extremely clever thus far, we're going to find him, and Hermione Granger." Kingsley said, his rumbling voice radiating confidence. "We ask this information be kept confidential for the time being." He looked pointedly at Ron and Harry. They nodded mechanically.

"That's all for now. We'll be updating you with leads soon." said Tonks, her hands on her hips.

Low conversation broke out as everyone exited the room. Ron and Harry slipped through one of the secret passages towards their Common Room.

"Fat lot of good that was," Harry muttered, his voice echoing against the stone walls of the passage

Ron nodded. "At least we know something... enough."

They glanced quickly at one another. Harry knew exactly what he meant. They couldn't just stand-by at Hogwarts when their best friend was out there in the hands of a murderer. If proper action wasn't going to be taken, then they were going to have to put the situation into their own hands.

It was time to begin their own hunt.

* * *

**So, what are your theories, readers? Post a review, and thanks so much for reading!**

-heylooklisten


	10. Snoop

**A/N** - And we're back with Hermione's struggles. Enjoy the new chapter, everyone!

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Hermione crept out of the room she spent most of her time in the past several days, sweat trickling down her forehead. The musty stench of the corridor enveloped her senses and she tried hard not to cough. The house smelled like pure death. She peered down the dim corridor warily, watching for fleeting shadows and listening for signs of life.

Ever since she was brought to this shabby abode, she didn't have the chance to attempt to escape. Liam always seemed to loom out of the shadows, watching her every move, her every breath. The only time he let her out was for the loo, and even then he escorted her there and back. She was treated like a petty prisoner, and to him, was she anything but?

Still, he treated her fairly well. He gave her food, and clothes to wear. At first she denied them, but hunger and her feeling of grubbiness overpowered her stubbornness. The clothes were simple – today, she was wearing brown corduroys and a light green sweater. Upon asking whose they were, he simply explained it was his sister's outgrown clothes.

Today was the first attempt. She was sick of sitting in the bright little room, meant to make her feel 'comfortable', but she felt the life drain from her at every minute that trickled past. Hermione tried reading the Muggle books in the room, most of them Victorian age novels or biographies of various people in history. She felt at home when she read, but as soon as the story was over, she realized where she was again.

Now, she had finished all thirty six books.

Hermione took another step into the corridor, gulping hard.

"Liam?" she breathed into the gloom.

Nothing.

"I-I have to go to the loo..."

Silence.

Hermione breathed in, then took no chances and dashed down the corridor. She took a left turn, passing the kitchen – the newspaper with Holly's article was gone – and found the front door. Her heart beat quickened and she nearly tripped over a pile of untouched mail and newspapers in her haste.

She whipped her head around, making sure Liam was truly gone, and then flew for the rusted knob of the tall, wooden door. Hermione yanked the door open, feeling the cold January wind rush past her and took a blind step forward, beyond the doorway. _Free_.

Suddenly, a sharp current passed through her body and she froze, mid-step. She felt like every nerve in her body was being licked by an electric jolt. Her eyes grew wide, like a deer caught in headlights. The pain Hermione experienced heightened and an invisible force threw her back into the corridor in an arc. She slammed into the ground with a yelp, her body convulsing and jerking.

Her mind spun as she lay there, the pain becoming a dull memory. Minutes later, the feeling gradually returned to her limbs and she propped herself up on her elbows, her body throbbing. She shook, staring at the doorway in front of her. The door was still open, creaking slightly against the wind. She dragged herself forward until she was right by the door, but not close enough to get shocked again.

Hermione looked out into the house's front yard, covered in about a metre of snow. Beyond that, she saw a thin road that snaked upwards in between two short hills to the left – she could make out the edge of a grand house in the distance hiding behind some evergreens. To the right, the road went downwards – several other shabby houses dotted the end of the bleak street.

Movement caught Hermione's eye and she turned; a thin woman wrapped in a woolen scarlett scarf passed the house slowly, rolling a little cart with groceries. She didn't even glance at the Woodsworth house.

"Excuse me!" Hermione shouted, her voice croaky. "Hello! _HELP ME_!"

The woman didn't offer her a glance and continued up the road slowly. Hermione wiped a teardrop from her face and struggled up to her feet, her body still aching. Magic was at work here. The woman couldn't see the house, or saw it as something else. Why else did she ignore her? Liam had also blocked the exit with a defense – it was probably at work on all the windows too. The boy was much too clever to doubt.

She looked out into the outside world for a moment more, longing in her heart, before closing the door and turning back into the corridor reluctantly.

Hermione went into the kitchen and poured some water from the tap into a cup, her hand shaky. A fan above her spun unsteadily, and she wrinkled her nose at the dirtiness of the room. How could he live in such a disgusting space?

She downed the water and threw the cup on top of the pile of dishes, resulting in a large clang. Liam was definitely not in the house. Hermione walked out of the kitchen to think, unable to handle the reek. Where had he gone today? Back to Hogwarts? He couldn't have – he was gone for a week, surely he's being hunted down. Or so she hoped. She shook the unnerving thought from her head.

A flight of rickety looking stairs she didn't notice earlier stood outside the kitchen – Hermione peered up at the second floor. It was a tiny landing with three doors on each wall. She looked down the hall at her own little room, mind whirling – perhaps a bit of snooping was in order. She had to take advantage of the time he was gone.

Hermione grabbed the railing and started to climb, each step causing a long, loud creak. Once on the landing, she let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding in – maybe because she thought the unstable stairs would collapse under her.

Hermione opened the door directly in front of her – another, grimy toilet. She closed it quickly before she inhaled the fumes.

Two more doors. She tried the one on the left – locked. Hermione frowned, disappointed. Liam's own room, she supposed.

That left one more door. Hermione turned the knob, pleased to find it unlocked and pushed it open slowly.

She groped the wall, and turned on the switch, letting light flood into the room. This room, surprisingly enough, was clean. Dust layered the pictures hanging on the wall, as well as the beauty cabinet, but otherwise, it was clean. A large bed sat in the middle of the room, looking cold and untouched, as if no one had slept in it in ages. Thick, green drapes covered the windows, but a tiny sliver of light cut across the room, illuminating the dust particles.

Hermione looked at the photos on the wall – they were family portraits. She took her sleeve and wiped the dust off each one as she examined them. The first one had a little baby in a crib, wrapped tightly in a blue blanket dotted with gold stars. The child's dark green eyes stared at her, happy and oblivious.

The next picture had a bespeckled woman with short, blonde hair and a pointed face leaning against a tall, burly man with a scruffy dark beard. In between them, a small boy smiled, neat hair combed to the side and eyes bright with curiosity. He couldn't have been older than four.

The pictures continued on across the wall, a timeline of Liam's life – his first day of school, his first tooth lost, a shot of him kicking a football. He wore his Hogwarts robes in his last picture, holding his new wand high proudly. The photographs ended there, like his life had stopped abruptly. The edge of a cliff.

Hermione stepped back. Something seemed wrong. She studied the photos again of the happy boy and his parents and it struck her like a train – where was his sister? None of the photos included a girl. Liam looked like the perfect child, the perfect only child...

She brushed her mane of hair back nervously. There were probably other pictures somewhere in the house, in an album... maybe he was the favoured child.

She opened the drawers of the cupboard next to the bed, and found nothing but outdated bills and cards. The closet was half full with woman's clothes, just as untouched as the bed. The other half was empty.

Just as she stepped back, ready to return to her room, she heard someone clear their throat behind her. Hermione froze, feeling like an icy bucket of water was drenched over her. She gulped hard, her throat thick, and turned slowly on her heel, dreading what she would see.

Liam stood stiffly by the door frame – his face was drained of emotion except for his eyes; they were bright with fury, like a violent windstorm in hell.

* * *

**Voilà! **

**Don't forget to review! The greater the desire for an update, the quicker I write to satisfy it!**


	11. Vendetta

**A/N** - Sorry for making you wait, everyone - this chapter had a lot going on so I wanted to make sure it was perfected before I released it. Enjoy!

* * *

Their eyes met. Hermione could almost feel the hot fury pulsating off his body from where he stood. She gulped, her eyes brushing across the room – she had left one of the wardrobe doors open. There was no getting out of this.

"Bold." Liam whispered, his voice unwavering. For some reason, it sounded different... mature.

_Dangerous._

She raised her chin defiantly, though her insides were churning.

"You didn't expect me to sit around and accept this, did you?" she said.

Liam sneered and took a step forward with an uncharacteristic air of confidence. Hermione stood in her place stiffly, refusing to succumb to fear. The room suddenly felt smaller and a chill ran up her spine.

"No. Though I thought you'd be a bit more _careful_," he replied, saying the last word slowly, savouring it. He took another step towards her, bright gaze locked.

Hermione bit her lip, but stayed in her place. Without her wand, she felt defenceless, and wondered about its whereabouts.

"I told you not to try and leave," he continued, eyes flicking down to her arm. Angry red lines were criss-crossed on it. Hermione pulled her sweater sleeve down consciously, hiding them.

"I'll find a way out of here," she said, keeping her voice level. "If my friends don't find me first."

Liam smiled, but there was no warmth in it. A puppet's smile. "I'm sure you also noticed the house has been charmed to look destroyed to outsiders. Burnt down, in fact.

There was a pause. Hermione tried to digest the information he gave her.

Another step, and now they were nearly touching. "No one can ever find you. And you can't... get... _out_."

Before she could answer, his face twisted angrily and he grabbed her throat. Hermione's gasp was cut off as he tightened on her airway, and she thrashed her arms. She blinked up at him, tears rapidly forming in her eyes.

Liam's dark eyes bore down on her. There was no human emotion in them. Her focus blurred slightly as she became faint and her arms went limp.

And his grip continued to tighten. "I can end this," he simply said. With that, he flung her aside and she slammed into the wall. Hermione gasped for air, sliding down to the ground weakly.

Her head spun and she fought to keep her eyes open.

"But I won't..." She felt him grab her wrist and he began to drag her out of the room.

Hermione's head banged up against each step of the staircase as she was dragged down like a lifeless rag doll. A quiet moan escaped her bloody lips at the excruciating pain, but she was much too weak to fight back. Finally, he flung her off the ground and onto a bed, back in her bright room, meant to signify comfort.

She lied there, face down, her body aching. The feeling returned to most parts of her body and she raised her head feebly.

Liam stood there, observing her. Strangely enough, the nervous boyish look he usually sported has returned and he looked at her curiously, a hand on his temple like he had a headache.

"Well," he mumbled. His voice sounded normal again. "When you feel better, I expect you to put this on." He placed a tiny bottle on the bookshelf. Hermione couldn't figure out what it was, as both of her eyes were swollen.

Before he closed the door, he turned around and gave her a – a _sympathetic_ smile?

"I'll be back."

* * *

Ron and Harry were ready. After agreeing it was time to take action, they planned to leave the upcoming weekend. Neither of them had an idea about where they were going to stay, or how they were going to travel, but that was the least of their worries. As long as they were out there soon, they felt like they weren't letting Hermione down.

Nobody knew. Ron was certain there would be another uproar of panic when their fellow Gryffindors realized they had suddenly disappeared overnight, but someone would figure it out eventually. At first, they realized it was a bit irrational. Everything the trio did was irrational, and now, without Hermione, it was even more so.

It wasn't until Hogwarts went into another state of emergency that they knew it was absolutely necessary.

The morning before Ron and Harry planned their leave began typically. Students filed into the Great Hall for breakfast before the start of classes. The atmosphere at Hogwarts was still wary, but chatter slowly cropped up again. One step towards normalcy, for many.

Ron yawned, spreading some cheese across his second bagel. He'd hardly gotten any sleep the past few days after the meeting with the Aurors and the dark bags under his eyes proved as much. McGonagall strode past and shot him a critical glance – Ron tried to flatten his unruly hair down, annoyed. Though McGonagall looked just as stressed out as most, that didn't stop her from sorting everyone out.

Harry slung his bag off his shoulder and slumped down in front of Ron, grabbing his own breakfast.

"Tomorrow," Harry said lowly, spreading butter on toast.

Ron nodded, eyes darting to both his sides. No one seemed to be eavesdropping.

"You reckon you're ready?"

Harry shrugged, taking a bite out of his toast. "As ready as I'll ever be."

They ate in silence. The owls swooped in with the day's post, dropping packages and letters alike. Ron narrowed his eyes across the Hall at the Slytherins, many of whom were boasting about their giant parcels full of treats from back home. Either they were hiding it, or they were already over Pansy's death. He looked away, disgusting.

"They sent letters home, you know," he said, downing his pumpkin juice. "About everything. Some students have already been pulled out."

Harry nodded, eyes lost in thought. "The Dursleys could care less."

"Mum sent me a letter the other day, went bloody mad by the looks of—"

Ron was cut off by a bloodcurdling shriek, followed by several others in a domino effect. It came from the other side of the room, and all the students whipped their heads towards the Slytherin table, trying to figure out what had happened. Ron heard an 'Oh my _God_!' come from several students and the alarm escalated. Benches were scraped back and students stood up, craning their necks and trying to glimpse the Slytherins.

Ron and Harry scrambled up onto the bench along with Dean and Seamus, looking out across the Hall.

"_Blimey..."_ Ron heard Seamus whisper to his left. Blimey was an understatement.

Several Slytherins were on their knees, clutching their faces and screaming Among them, Ron recognized Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. The rest of the Slytherins were backed up against the stone wall, terrified at the sight before them. A fair-haired female was already sprawled motionless on the ground, a ripped letter in her hand; the one who shrieked first, Ron guessed.

A second later, Vincent Crabbe, who was gaping next to Malfoy, ripped out a shout of pain. Ron saw his face disfigure and become blotched with red and black blemishes, the same time Malfoy and Zabini toppled over and stopped moving.

"It's _CONTAGIOUS_!" a voice screeched, and everyone's interest in getting a glimpse disappeared – the only thing that ran through the minds of the students was _'get out'_.

Ron scrambled off the bench, following the stampede out. There was a hold up at the entrance, and people fought over who got to leave first. Ron turned around and noticing he had lost Harry in the throng. He could hear McGonagall's voice shouting at students not to breath the air, and he clamped a hand over his mouth. The students' shrieks didn't cease as they pushed each other out of the Great Hall, trying to escape the horror behind them.

A tiny Hufflepuff girl with ginger pigtails stood off to the side, her hands clamped in fear. Her small face was pale and her eyes wide. She had to be in first year. Ron felt a pang – she reminded him of a young Ginny.

"Don't just stand around! We've got to _GO_," he cried, grabbing her hand and pulling her along with him. "And cover your mouth!"

The small girl gripped his hand tightly and did as she was told, looking afraid and confused.

As everyone flooded out, Ron's mind whirled like clockwork. What the hell just happened? In all of a few moments, Hogwarts was dragged right back down into a state of fear. He still couldn't find Harry and hoped he was with Ginny – who knew how many others succumbed to whatever that was back there.

With the expressions swimming around him, Ron knew what the underlying question was.

Was anyone truly safe?

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed that! REVIEW PLEASE, they motivate me to update quicker - I hate leaving a lot of people waiting if it's asked for.**

**I hope you're all enjoying your weekend!**

-heylooklisten


	12. Devil's Water

Hey everyone! Sorry for the extremely long wait, been busy (sigh). Hopefully I'll crank out a few chapters during my March Break, which starts on the 11th. Till then, enjoy this chapter!

* * *

_You can run, you can hide,_  
_ but sooner or later_,  
_it's going to cut you like a knife,_  
_sooner or later,_  
_no where to go, I'm already inside you,_  
_You know,_  
_No one will love you like I love you_  
_'Cause love is a suicide._

"Love is a Suicide"  
**Natalia Kills  
-**

* * *

"They're dead."

Harry blew out an exasperated sigh and turned away, overwhelmed by the events of the last few hours. After the catastrophe in the Great Hall, there was no time for hesitation on Dumbledore's part – soon, Hogwarts was evacuated. Floo Networks sprang up and each student stepped into the emerald flames, spinning back home, scared, confused, and far away from the horror behind them.

He convinced Dumbledore to let him go to the Burrow with Ron and Ginny – the Dursleys would hardly care about his well being, but he sent a quick letter to them for good measure. All three of their belongings were left behind, like the rest of the students' – they were meant to be sent soon, but even that was uncertain.

Harry swallowed hard and turned back towards Kingsley. They – Ron, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Kingsley, and Tonks – sat in the Burrow's kitchen, struggling to accept what had happened within the walls of Hogwarts. Ron paled considerably when Kingsley said 'they're dead', and continued to stay silent.

"How – how many?" Mrs. Weasley whispered. Her hands were knitted tightly, but Harry could see they were shaking. "How many were killed?"

Tonks leaned against the wall and ran a hand through her bright hair, thinking. "Five. Another eleven were sent to St. Mungo's to be treated. Luckily for them, they were far enough from it that it wasn't severe—"

"It?" Ginny interrupted from the far side of the table. "What was _it_, exactly?"

Kingsley answered the question this time. "Anthrax."

Harry blinked. "That doesn't sound like a curse."

"It isn't," Kingsley replied, his voice a low rumble. He towered over the rest of them, an air of authority surrounding him.

"Anthrax is a bacterial disease. From what we've roughly deduced, three letters were sent to three different students this morning. Upon opening these rather normal looking letters, the anthrax spores within them were released and inhaled. These were not regular spores – they were a deadly strain, modified by magic to work quickly. The first three students killed were the original recipients of the letters. The other two were in close proximity to them when the letter was open, and were close enough to inhale enough of the spores for a trigger. By this point, I believe, panic ensued and everyone ran out. Eleven other students contracted the floating anthrax spores, but it was weak enough to quickly treat."

"That's why the castle had to be evacuated," Tonks finished off, looking at each of them. "The atmosphere was just too dangerous."

The Weasleys and Harry remained hushed. Time seemed to crawl by slower as they became lost in thought. Harry watched fluffy snowflakes fall gently outside, more peaceful than anything he saw in ages.

"And Hermione?" Ron finally said, shattering the silence. The others turned to the Aurors, asking the same question from the look in each person's eye.

"We think it's linked. It's too much of a coincidence." Tonks answered, slipping her hands into her cloak pockets. "Woodsworth is among our top priorities now. He's a threat."

Mrs. Weasley sniffled and reached for a tissue, obviously distraught. Mr. Weasley put a hand on her shoulder, his face grim. A chair screeched against the ground and Ginny slipped out of the kitchen without a backwards glance. Harry felt a pang and had the sudden urge to follow her, to hold her and tell her it was going to be alright soon, that everything would return to normal. But who was he to tell lies?

"Now that Hogwarts is evacuated and students are safe at home for the time being, we can put our full efforts into finding Miss Granger," Kingsley announced.

Tonks nodded. "I'll be going back to Woodsworth's birthplace to find out more about him and his fa—"

"Ron and I want to come with you." Harry blurted out, cutting her off. Ron's eyes snapped back into focus and he looked at Harry, confused. Harry raised his eyebrows convincingly – it was better to have Tonks along with them, then leaving in secrecy.

"Absolutely _not_!" Mrs. Weasley started, shaking her head. "You—"

"No," Ron interrupted, nodding feverishly at Harry's notion. "We want to help. Hermione is _our _best friend. We know her better than anyone!"

"Arthur, do you hear this?" Mrs. Weasley cried, turning to her husband. Mr. Weasley sighed and gave Harry a keen look.

"They do have a point, Molly," he replied feebly. Mrs. Weasley shot him an incredulous look. "They have a right to be in the know. I reckon they'll attempt to run off on their own anyway."

"We will," Ron muttered.

Mrs. Weasley paced back and forth, a hand on her forehead. "Fine!" she finally said shrilly, storming out of the room. Mr. Weasley quickly followed behind, leaving him and Ron alone with the Aurors.

Harry looked at Tonks eagerly. She shrugged, and looked to Kingsley, who nodded.

"You two could be valuable in this investigation," he said slowly. "But you must follow the orders of an Auror at all times. No major magic on your own terms unless we allow it. You'll only be a shadow. Do you understand?"

Harry and Ron nodded anxiously.

"Then be prepared to set out tomorrow morning!" Tonks smiled, following Kingsley towards the door. "I'll be back for you."

A sudden thought crossed Harry's mind as the two Aurors walked out.

"Wait!" he cried. They turned around, snow dotting their dark cloaks.

"Did the letters say Woodsworth sent them?"

Kingsley shook his head bleakly. "There was only one phrase on the front of them."

"_Nunquam alieno, nunquam indulgeo._"

_Never forgive, never forget._

* * *

How the stench of alcohol still lingered in the basement, Liam did not know. His mother was long dead. Her alcoholism must have left a permanent mark down here – to taunt him? He hated the smell. It reminded him of his dark childhood, or lack thereof.

_In any case_, he mused, _I had the last laugh._

Bitter as it may be, it was true. To have the blood of his mother on his hands grew to an obsession as the years trickled by. The only memories he had left of her now were when the times were good. Before Hogwarts.

Of course, he hadn't moved her body. There she was, sitting in her favourite armchair, staring glassy eyed at the tiny telly on top of a rickety table on the other side of the basement. It was just as dead as she was.

The light from the tiny window at the top of the wall poured light into the room, making the shards of glass next to his mother's armchair glimmer. Her last bottle of the devil's water.

The stench of death was better. Yes, it was better this way.

Liam tore his eyes away from his mother and looked back at Holly, lying on the table before him, above white cloth. She looked the same as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before. Still dead, but thanks to magic for once, still beautifully intact.

Holly's blank eyes stared at the cracked ceiling – still vivid blue, but without the sparkling charisma of the past. Her dark hair was fanned around her deathly pale face, and her lips were parted slightly, like she was surprised. Her nails were painted her favourite lilac shade, chipped on the thumbs. Yellow shirt. Faded blue jeans. Colours of her last summer.

Liam magically healed the deep slash in her throat, erasing any evidence of a violent murder. She could spring to life at any moment and continue what was stolen from her. He would trade anything in the world for that, but life – life was unfair.

He brushed a strand of hair from his beloved's face and smiled weakly.

"Soon," he told her.

* * *

**And there you have it, folks. Hope you enjoyed it, and please review what you think! I always appreciate them!**

-heylooklisten


	13. Charred

**Yep, you're not going crazy, I decided to update you within a day of posting Ch. 12. The reviews were super nice and motivated me to crank another one out. This one is a bit longer than usual. Enjoy!**

* * *

Ron took a deep breath, his nose burning from the icy morning air. The coldness he felt was only partially due to the weather. He didn't think this would affect him so dramatically, but it did, and it was hard dealing with it.

He and Harry stood on the Burrow's porch, waiting for Tonks' arrival. They agreed to shadow Tonks and return to the Burrow each night. Ron had no reason to complain – it was realistic, and he could still come home to his mother's dinner.

A loud _pop!_ cut through his thoughts, and he looked up to the figure that wasn't there before. Tonks brushed some snow off her hair and gave them a toothy grin.

"Wotcher! Ready to go?"

The two of them stepped off the porch and crunched their way through the snow towards her.

"Erm," Harry said, looking around, his glasses fogging up from his breath. "Are we just going to apparate along with you?"

Tonks buckled her elbows comically – Ron tried stifling a bout of laughter. It was surprising, because he hardly cracked a smile the past few weeks.

"Side-along! Just hold on to my elbows and close your eyes," she said. Ron circled to her left side, and Harry the right. He screwed his eyes shut – this was his first time experiencing apparition, and he didn't think it was going to feel the greatest.

"Hold on tight!" Tonks announced, and with a small chuckle, Ron felt her take a small step forward.

Suddenly, he felt the world around him spinning uncontrollably. There was a tight compression against his chest and a high whistling deafened him. He gripped Tonks' arm even tighter, hoping he wasn't hurting her, and didn't dare open his eyes. It was when his eyes began to water did the spinning stop and he fell to his knees.

Eyes still screwed shut, his stomach lurched and he heaved the pancakes he had for breakfast onto what he believed to be snow before him. He heard Harry moan above him, but from either disgust or nausea, Ron did not know.

He panted slightly and scrambled to his feet, eyes finally flying open. Tonks welcomed him with a bemused look and Harry was rubbing his temples, hair stuck up more than usual.

"Most people vomit on their first try, don't worry," she simply said.

With that crappy feel now in his mouth, Ron looked at where he stood. They apparated to the fork between two paths. Around him were tall evergreens garnished by sparkling white snow, dotting the side of the two paths down into the valley. Down the right path, Ron saw a rather wealthy looking village. All the houses were majestic, and looked identical to each other. He noticed a child playing with a large dog off into the distance.

The next path winded down to quite the opposite. From what he could see, the houses here seemed to be a forgotten leg of the main village. The homes were tiny, dotted here and there, mostly wooden and in dire need of repair. Of the homes that did have fences, they were either broken or the gate was hanging on a hinge. Ron couldn't help but notice it was even a bit darker than the main village, with a large forest behind it, casting shadows across some areas.

"Where are we?" Ron said, his breath a crisp cloud in front of him.

Tonks tucked her wand away and put her hands on her hips, looking purposefully down into the left pathway.

"Welcome to Rickshaw Valley."

"So this is where he lives..." said Harry, bitterness tingeing his voice.

"_Lived_," she corrected. "As far as we know, his childhood home has burnt down to the ground and his parents are nowhere to be found. It's a right mess down there." She nodded towards the gloomy path.

"Why are we here then?" Ron muttered. He couldn't help but sound annoyed.

Tonks began to walk down the left path. Harry and Ron followed reluctantly behind her.

"To question," she began. "We need to find out more about this fellow. How he grew up, what his parents are like, the basis of investigating. If we know a little about him, it'll help us figure out why he behaves this way and where he might be now."

Ron nodded slowly. His insides still felt pretty gross, and the sketchiness of this neighbourhood didn't help. They walked past a couple homes, their boots crunching against the untouched snow on the road. It was dead silent. A thin, wiry cat with bulging yellow eyes stared from one of the porches as they made their way along. Ron gulped and cast his eyes away from it.

He nearly bumped into Tonks when she stopped abruptly.

"The Woodsworth residence."

Ron looked to his right – beyond the gate, which had a 'Do Not Enter' sign posted on it, a ruined home stood before him. The top half was missing, but the bottom half remained. It was a twisted, black disaster, charred and crumbling. Pieces of wood lay scattered on the lawn, also charred on the edges. Ashes upon ashes.

Harry let out a low whistle. "Must have been terrible."

"Good riddance," Ron mumbled under his breath. "I wish the bastard was inside during it, maybe none of this would have happened."

Tonks shot him a reproachful look.

"I mean it."

"We'll start at that house over there," she declared, ignoring him. She pointed towards a couple houses down the road.

"Do exactly what I say, and nothing else. If anyone asks, we're Muggle investigators, nothing more." She paused. Ron watched as her hair morphed into a tight brown bun. "That's better. I reckon my normal look would have frightened someone."

Suddenly, Ron heard it – but he didn't know what he heard, exactly. He peered back at the destroyed home, confused. Surely nothing in that ruin could make a sound.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Ron snapped out of his reverie – Tonks was already well on her way, and Harry stood several steps away anxiously, waiting.

"Did you – did you hear anything just now?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "No. This place has been lifeless since we arrived."

Ron ran a hand through his hair and walked on, unnerved.

"Never mind... must have imagined it."

* * *

Hermione sat cross legged in front of the gaping doorway, staring out into snow banks, trees, and road. It had become almost a routine to come to this spot whenever Liam left. The chill was nothing compared to the sensation she had feeling close to the outside world. The doorway to nowhere for now, but maybe soon, her path to freedom.

A copy of '_Fiorintini Artists of the Renaissance'_ lay open on her lap, her favourite of the books in the room. Hermione sighed heavily, looking down at her fingernails. The bottle Liam left for her ended up being a pretty lilac coloured nail polish. She had no idea why he wanted her to wear it, but she hardly wanted to suffer his wrath again. Though the assault was a few days prior, she winced painfully when she had to walk, talk, even lie down. Liam didn't seem to notice.

Once, she asked where he always ran off to. He simply replied 'business'. She didn't inquire further. From what she's seen of him so far, Liam was clever – no doubt sorted into the correct house. The question was, _how_ clever?

_Is he actually going to get away with this?_ she thought. _One slip up is all I need._

Hermione's head snapped up – voices were drifting outside from up the winding road. It was barely 9am, no one was usually out at this time, let alone a group. She scrambled up to her knees and strained her ears. She was certain she recognized those voices.

She didn't have to strain her ears any further, because three figures rounded the corner and made their way down towards the Woodsworth home. Despite the snowfall, Hermione recognized all three of them. Her heart struck a cord at the sight of Ron's windswept hair, a bright beacon in the whiteness.

"Ron! Harry!" she yelled, her voice cracking. A lump formed in her throat, and she felt like her airways were being blocked. "Tonks!"

The three of them, wrapped tightly in their cloaks, stopped and turned to face the house. Hermione scrambled up to her feet, elated. The house could be seen!

"Must have been terrible," she heard Harry say.

_Terrible?_

It was Ron who spoke next. "Good riddance, I wish the bastard was inside during it... maybe this wouldn't have happened.."

"RON," she cried, cupping her hands on her mouth. "HARRY! _HARRY_."

Tonks said something, and she pointed onwards. Her hair transformed in an instant, and she continued on. Harry followed her.

"NO!" Hermione cried, unable to believe what was happening. They were _right there,_ so close, and yet so far. They must see the ruins of a home, so the charm was still at work. Hot tears sprung to her eyes and she began to shake.

"Can't you see me? _DON'T LEAVE ME_, RON!"

He stopped and turned. Harry looked back at him. Hermione panted hard, wanting so badly to just run up to them.

"Did you – did you hear something?" she heard Ron ask.

Harry's answer was too low for her to hear. She held her breath, hands trembling.

"Never mind... must have imagined it."

"No, NO!"

But they continued on anyway, hurrying up to catch up to Tonks. Seconds later, they were out of sight.

The tears spilt down Hermione's face and she leaned against the wall, sobbing louder than she ever had in years. And why shouldn't she? She just experienced the most heartbreaking, painful experience of her life.

She shook uncontrollably, sliding down the wall until she lied crumpled on the floor, broken. To physically see them ignore her seemed to have doused the flickering hope inside of her once and for all. Her cries of grief were heard by none, except the walls of the hell hole containing her.

_I thought I'd never see him – them again. _

It was, after all, the one thing she yearned for since it all began. Perhaps the heavens let her have that one request because the end was coming anyway.

_The end was coming anyway._

* * *

**Don't forget to review! I hope you liked this chapter, and have a fantastic weekend, readers! :)**

-heylooklisten


	14. Personal

Hello everyone! Sorry for the wait again, but things are always coming up that delay me from posting new chapters. Here's Chapter 14 - enjoy!

* * *

Ron somberly followed Harry and Tonks, dragging his feet across the unploughed snow. The first two houses in the lower valley were a letdown – either the dwellers inside ignored them, or nobody was home, though he was quite sure it wasn't the latter. After banging on the door of the house they just left, a sea of snow tumbled off the roof onto the less-than-happy trio.

"Well, third time's the charm," Harry mumbled, shaking the rest of the snow out of his hair as they approached another home.

Tonks strode forward purposefully, giving the door a sharp rap. She stepped back and they waited anxiously. Ron looked back towards the ruins of the Woodsworth home in the distance, unnerved by what he felt from it.

A second later, the door flew open and a short, stout woman peered up at them. She was wrapped in a long, wool sweater and had her wiry blackish grey hair tucked into a loose bun. Ron gulped as her beady grey eyes surveyed him.

"Can I help you?" she said, her voice in irritable octaves. "And make it quick, this draft is doing nothing for my health."

Tonks gave both Ron and Harry and knowing look, and then cleared her throat. "So sorry to bother you. We're actually here to inquire about the Woodsworths, if y—"

The small woman turned on her heel and shuffled back inside, leaving the door wide open. "If that's what this is about, it isn't going to be quick."

Ron shot Tonks a bewildered look, who looked equally as confused.

"Well, stop lollygagging and come in!" the woman called from inside. "Shut the door, if you_ do_ mind."

The three of them looked at each other and shrugged, stepping inside. Ron pulled at his scarf – the tiny house was startlingly humid, and he found it painful to shut the door behind him and stop the flow of cool air.

Down a narrow hallway and to the left did they find the woman sitting in a worn armchair, sipping away at a chipped mug. She nodded her head towards a couch, and they squeezed into it uncomfortably. Ron's nosed tickled from the thick aroma of coffee that blanketed the room.

"So, Miss..."

"Call me Elene. And you are?"

Tonks pulled out her notepad and a quill. "Private investigators."

Elene took a slow sip of her coffee and glanced at Ron and Harry suspiciously. "Awful young, you two."

"They're my trainees," Tonks continued. "I'll be asking the questions today. Have you been questioned about the Woodsworths before?"

Elene chuckled derisively. "Ever since two summers ago, the only people who've been knocking on my door are the police or investigators." Ron couldn't help but notice that statement came with a sad undertone.

"When was the last time you saw or communicated any member of the Woodsworth family?" Tonks asked sternly. Ron could only stare – he was always used to Tonks bubbly personality, and didn't ever see the serious Auror side of her before. Her plain new hair-do intensified that.

Elene brushed a few loose grey strands out of her face and stared off into the distance. "Well, can't say I've seen Robert for years, not since he walked out. Man of the household," she added at Tonks' questioning look.

"And his wife?"

Elene paused and frowned, the lines on her forehead stark. "Sophia isn't... well, she rarely left her home. When did she, she was a right mess, and only left to buy herself drinks down at the shops."

Tonks nodded distractedly, scribbling this down. Elene stared at her quill with a bemused expression. A tawny eyed cat slinked into the room and leapt up on top of Elene's armchair, cocking its head and examining the strangers.

"I didn't even know about the fire – slept right through it, I think," Elene continued, pouring herself another cup of coffee. "Such a shame."

"Do you have any idea where they may have relocated?" Tonks asked.

Elene pursed her lips tightly. "I've no idea. I don't pry."

Tonks decided to change the subject. "The Woodsworths, they had a son..."

"Little Liam," she said with a bit of a titter. "Charming lad. What of him?"

Ron narrowed his eyes tightly at the mention of Liam and looked away. _Charming_, she said. How many people did he fool with his act?

Tonks struggled to form her words delicately. "Well, how long have you known Liam Woodsworth?"

Elene sniffed and took a generous sip of coffee once again, reminiscing. "The Woodsworths lived in Rickshaw for years. Known the boy since he was born. Bit of an odd one, but nicer than most of the lads in town. Always offered to get me kitty food for Libby here."

The dark cat meowed at the mention of her name and jumped off, slinking himself around Ron's feet. He groaned quietly and attempted to shift the feline away with a foot.

"And the last time you saw him?"

"A few days ago, actually."

Ron snapped his head up from the cat to look at the old woman in her chair. Harry's daydream was also shattered and he sat up straight, alarmed.

"Was there – was there anyone with him?" Ron had to ask, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

Elene raised her eyebrows, amused. "Not at all. Liam keeps to himself."

"Why was he here, if his house is in ruins?" asked Tonks, also thrown off by the unexpected response.

"Haven't a clue," Elene simply replied, much to Ron's dismay. "Coffee?"

Ron shook his head, frustrated. His mind churned with questions and thoughts. Liam wasn't completely disassociated with Rickshaw if he was returning to it, but why?

"What could he possibly want from Rickshaw?" Tonks muttered to herself, reflecting Ron's thoughts.

"Liam hasn't been quite the same since two summers ago, poor thing." Elene commented, stroking Libby's fur. "If I could take a jab, he's back for closure."

"What exactly _happened_ two summers ago?" Harry inquired, confused.

"Oh dear, I thought you knew!" Elene said with genuine shock. She poured herself her third cup of coffee before she began. "Since his father left and his mother became a hopeless case, Liam's life was quite a struggle, but he had a friend that helped him through it. They were friends since a wee age, and in the summer and winter when Liam returned from his schooling, they were never seen apart."

"Can I have a name?" Tonks interrupted, quill at the ready.

"Holly. Holly Gallagher. Very pretty girl, but also a bit odd like Liam. It was good that they had each other, because they were often teased by kids their age in the upper valley. We don't have it so great down here, never have..." Elene murmured, eyes hooded.

"Where might we find her?" said Harry eagerly. "Surely she'd know wh—"

"She's _dead_," Elene retorted flatly. "Cold blooded murder."

There was a moment of silence before Tonks whispered, "Who?"

Elene sighed and shook her head sadly. "No one's ever known. Some thought it was someone out-of-town – everyone knows everyone in Rickshaw. It happened at the very end of the summer, when Liam had already travelled back to school. It was a nasty shock for him when he returned for Christmas, suddenly alone." She paused. "They found her hours later behind some bushes at the outskirts of the valley. Slit throat."

Ron gulped and suddenly felt uneasy. He hated himself for offering the tiniest bit of sympathy towards Liam. He may have deserved it in the past, but not anymore.

"It doesn't stop there. A few months later, a couple lads from the upper valley were killed in the same way. It tore Rickshaw apart," Elene whispered, eyes glassy with thoughts of the past. "We haven't recovered."

He bet money that it was Liam who took care of those two boys when he returned for Christmas. It wasn't one stranger who killed these people – those boys killed the girl, and Liam killed them in a vendetta. The pieces fit. Ron shot a meaningful look at Harry, who nodded and mouthed the word 'Pansy'. She was killed in the same way, too.

"Is that why Rickshaw seems very detached?" Tonks said. "I've noticed the residents here aren't very... _social_ with strangers."

Elene's mouth twitched and she shrugged rather stiffly. "Can't blame us. Most don't open their doors to strangers, especially police types. We've had enough of that. We just want to return to the way it was..."

Tonks scribbled something down in her notepad. Elene watched her closely before standing up abruptly and crossing her arms.

"Sometimes he comes to visit Camille – Miss Gallagher. She lives just two houses down. As for Sophia, she's disappeared. That's all I know. If you please," she said, walking towards the front door. "I have errands to run."

Ron got up and stretched his legs, relieved to finally leave the stuffy home. Elene opened the door crossly and ushered them out – as soon as Ron stepped onto the porch, she nearly slammed the door shut behind him.

Tonks squinted her eyes and looked down the path. There were less and less houses as the path went along, and it ended with thick forest at the end.

"Well, we know where to go next," Tonks piped up, walking back onto the unploughed path.

"Do you think it was Liam who killed those boys?" he asked Tonks as they trekked across the snow.

Tonks slipped her notepad back into her cloak. "I believe so, yes. We don't have all the information but it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"But Liam knows magic... why did he resort to Muggle methods of killing? It would have been a lot less messy and easier..."

Tonks gave him a keen look, clearly pleased that he was asking questions.

"Killing with magic is too instant. We have to remember, Liam is a Muggle-born. It's clear he has a built-up rage inside of him, and he knew that Muggle methods of murder could cause a lot more pain." There was a beat, and then, "He wants his victims to suffer."

Ron's stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of Hermione having to slowly suffer. He could only wish it was him instead of her somehow. Liam had better wish it wasn't Ron that found him first. He would drop his wand and throttle him with his own hands.

"_Personal_," Ron whispered, realization striking him with a heavy blow. Harry blinked, confused.

"It's a lot more personal when you kill without magic helping you."

* * *

**I hope you liked the chapter, and please don't forget to review your thoughts, questions and theories! **

-heylooklisten


	15. Rotten Love

Alright, alright, here's the new chapter - quick like you asked. Just to let you know, though, this is the longest chapter I've written so far, longer than I usually do. The chapter lengths I write are the ones I ideally like to read - not too short, but not too long. Nowadays I don't have enough time to read a lot of fanfics right through (though I would love to), so I'm grateful for chapters that aren't 10 pages long. But that's just me!

We're back with Hermione. I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

_

Hermione took another heavy step, plunging her foot into a bank of snow. She squinted out into the distance – the barren land stretched for miles ahead of her with no sign of life to be seen. A wicked slap of wind sent snow billowing in every direction until the air around her was a sheet of white snowflakes.

_She wrapped the thin sweater around her tightly, her skin underneath numbing from the intense freeze. She could feel her feet swell, and her face also began to feel the frostbite. The wind howled – she thought she could hear it ask why she wasn't turning back and preserving her life._

_She walked on anyway. Her energy was depleting with every step – her shoes felt like they were made of lead, and heaving herself onwards took all the determination she could muster. Hermione looked up again – the ruthless arctic tundra continued to stretch on, a never ending road. She could have collapsed right there._

_And then she saw it, beyond her frosted eyelashes. A bright beacon of hope, the flash of orange in the distance. He was hunched, protecting himself from the gusts of snow, and he walked on briskly, his back towards her._

_Her breathing came in quick pants as she quickened her pace, trying to catch up to him, ignoring the pain in her feet and limbs. Every step seemed to be just another step backwards, and soon he was becoming a speck in the distance. Frustrated, she called out to him. _

_He stopped abruptly._

_Elated, Hermione mustered up everything she could to trek on, ignoring the harsh environment around her. The speck she almost let disappear grew bigger, and soon, she could make out his maroon sweater and corduroy pants against the blizzard. His hat sat on top of his head loosely, frays of ginger hair sticking out from under it. The tassles on it swayed with the wind, the same way they always did. _

"_Ron," she called, his back still towards her. "It's me, Ron!"_

_Her frustration grew – couldn't he hear her? He must have, why else did he stop? She stumbled towards him, knees weak, before lurching down onto the snow next to him, hot tears of happiness racing down her frozen face._

"_Ron?" she breathed, peering up. There was a moment where the blizzard intensified and his face disappeared behind the snow. A moment later, the figure looked down at her – instead of the warm, pale blue eyes that characterized Ron, hollow green eyes pierced through her._

"_N-No..." she stammered against numb lips, crawling backwards, trying to make as much distance as she could from him. "N-not you, p-please no..."_

"_There's no where you can hide," he said with a light chuckle, suddenly above her, and her world was plunged into darkness._

Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she scrambled up to a sitting position, cold sweat coating her skin. She breathed hard, blinking around at the sunlit room around her. Still here. Still trapped.

She dragged her frazzled hair back from her face and sighed heavily, swinging her legs off the bed and burying her face into her hands.

"Not again," she mumbled into them.

Hermione paused and looked up, peering out into the dark hallway. She wished the door was closed because of the repulsive smell that grew stronger each day in the house, but at the same time, she knew whether or not Liam was around when it was open. Today, the house was silent – no creaks from uneven wooden planks being trodden upon above her. No voice suspiciously floating up from the basement below.

She stood up and walked out of the room, towards the door of the basement, curiosity creeping up on her. She knew Liam was definitely disturbed – the time she spent with him spelt that out clearly. With what though, she didn't know. Hermione leaned her back against the basement door, assessing her options. A scruffy mouse streaked past her towards the kitchen, but she was so well used to the filthiness of the house that she barely blinked an eye.

The last time she snooped, she paid dearly for it. She could still feel the bruises on her ribs and some of the deeper cuts had left scars. Hermione grimaced at the thought of Liam catching her a second time. She couldn't just sit around and wait for whatever was going to happen – surely Liam was planning something, and doing nothing was almost accepting whatever fate was in store for her. She frowned and set her jaw – the greatest of protagonists had to do a bit of poking around to find success, and sometimes that came with a price. After actually seeing her best friends in the flesh, looking for her, Hermione was willing to pay that price. She was sick of replaying that moment in her head over and over, but still grasped on to it like it was the last thing she had. No matter how hard she tried to forget it, it was impossible - Ron's flustered face, looking curiously at something he truly couldn't see, was permanently fixed in her mind.

She turned around slowly, now facing the door, and placed her sticky hand on the brass knob. The basement was the only area of the house she didn't see, apart from the room upstairs. Liam spent hours down there at a time – there had to be something significant. Some days, she heard his voice. It was faint, but she knew it was his. Perhaps he suffered from schizophrenia and acted violently upon the invisible voices he heard? Hermione sighed, wishing she read more on mental health. She'll find out soon enough.

Hermione licked her lips shakily and slowly turned the knob – it didn't budge. She rattled it a bit more before giving up and blowing out and exasperated breath.

"Just my luck," she mumbled, crossing her arms. A simple Alohomora would have done the trick – she looked at her right hand and stretched her fingers pointlessly, becoming conscious of how much she grew to depend on her wand.

She didn't always live with magic though, she suddenly realized, and her hand flew to her mane of hair.

"I could have swore... I put... – yes!" she exclaimed, tugging a bobbypin out of her curls. She fumbled with it excitedly, bending the pin so it fit into the lock. Hermione twisted it rapidly, waiting for the – _click!_ – and without another thought, she pushed open the door triumphantly.

Her success was short lived – upon stumbling onto the tiny square landing next to the flight of stairs, she doubled over and nearly retched, her eyes stinging with the thick scent of rotting life.

"_God_," she cried, forcing her eyes open and covering her nose and mouth with a hand. Her stomach churned, but she stood up straight, trying to adapt. For as long as she lived, Hermione wished she never had to smell something so horrid. How can anyone live here? More importantly, how did Liam manage to be here for _hours_?

She quickly looked down the corridor before shutting the door behind her. She was plunged into darkness, but found a dangling chain above her. With a quick yank, a dull light flickered on down in the basement, casting shadows.

Steeling herself, Hermione took one step down. Creak. She took another. Louder creak. Bothered, she dashed down the stairs. The faster she did this, the faster she could get out, and avoid a cracked rib.

She was finally in the basement. The stairs opened up to the centre of the small room – the walls here were stone, as well as the floor, which was covered by a dusty burgundy carpet. She was suddenly reminded of the Room of Requirement and a chill ran up her spine. The smell of rot here was stronger than ever.

Before Hermione could examine the whole room, she froze, icy panic shooting through her body. A grey armchair facing away from her was situated near the corner in front of a tiny, cracked telly on a desk. The back of it was ripped, revealing the springs inside, but that's not what made her heart nearly freeze.

An arm was dangling lifelessly from the side, as if someone was sleeping on it. Hermione's eyes slid down to the person's wrist – a pearl bracelet indicated it must be a female. Below her hand, on the ground, was a shattered glass bottle. Its contents were still spilt, and had trickled right across the uneven floor of the basement.

"H-hello?" she whispered, wishing she had some sort of defense. Again, horrible time not to have her wand.

After a lack of response and movement, Hermione inched her way closer, hugging her arms. Were they asleep? Maybe this is the person Liam was talking to all this time – maybe he wasn't talking to himself after all.

She finally reached the dirty armchair and slowly circled around it, keeping back a couple feet. She was unprepared for what she saw next and her fist flew to her mouth to prevent her from releasing a chilling scream. Hermione staggered backward until her back was against the wall, then sagged down and began sobbing uncontrollably.

She was right – it was a woman in the chair. Her short blonde hair was dirty and clumped together. Glassy, dark green eyes stared straight ahead at the tiny television, as if she was still watching. Except people didn't watch television with a terrified expression. She wore a stained, black cardigan and a flowery skirt. The woman's body was positioned awkwardly, arm dangling off to the side and the other in her lap.

Her position was the least of Hermione's worries. She recognized the woman from the portraits upstairs, despite her body being extremely decomposed. Her eyes gave it away, an exact match to her son's.

_How could he kill his own mother?_ Hermione thought, hiccuping uncontrollably. If Liam could kill his own flesh and blood without an ounce of remorse, what hope did she have left?

She rose to her feet and tore her eyes away from Miss Woodsworth's rotting body, stumbling stiffly back towards the stairs, the taste of vomit tickling her throat. She grabbed the railing and stepped on the first step until she noticed the left side of the room. Her breath caught.

A long, narrow table and a wooden stool were the only items on this side of the room. The table wasn't vacant, however – horror enveloped Hermione's mind as she realized there was a body lying on the table. She couldn't see it because it was covered by a white cloth, but the outline was undoubtedly a human.

Hermione gulped, blinking back tears. She came down here for a reason – there was no point in backing out now. She had to finish what she began, or she would never have the courage to save herself later.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked towards the table and looked down on the cloth-covered face. Licking her dry lips, she braced herself and folded the cloth back slowly.

Beneath it, there was a girl, about her age. Her dark hair was fanned around her and she stared up towards the ceiling, blue eyes distant. Her face was as pale as the moon, but Hermione could tell her face was sprinkled with freckles. She was very pretty indeed, and she instantly knew this was the girl Liam had loved. This was Holly.

Her body was intact, and there was no sign of a murder. It was as if she naturally died within the hour. Unnerved, Hermione drew the white cloth back over her body, but not before she noticed Holly's fingernails. They were painted the exact same shade of lilac as hers, chipped at the thumbs.

Having had enough, Hermione made her way back up to her room, leaving the room from hell behind her. The moment she saw the fingernails did it all click together. Her head hurt as her mind processed all the information it gained. She fell heavily onto her bed, and suddenly felt cold.

The first day Liam captured her, he told her he needed her help. That he wanted to bring this girl back to life. All this time, she thought that he wanted her knowledge, that he wanted someone as bright as him to perform the Dark Magic, to offer what she knew. But it wasn't her knowledge he was after – it was her.

She looked at her nails shakily. He was transforming her into Holly. They already looked quite alike. No wonder he kept her well and fed. No wonder he kept Holly's body well intact. It matched perfectly. And the clothes – Hermione looked down at the white shirt and worn jeans she wore. It was all a lie – these were probably not Liam's sister's clothes. Her hunch was right, he was an only child. She was so stupid not to have realized it before. These were probably clothes Holly used to wear when she was alive. Hermione suddenly felt disgusting and wanted to rip them off her body.

Her mind spun with the revelations she was realizing. How, though? No matter how identical he made her to Holly, she was alive and the other girl was dead...

Hermione felt stiff and uneasy, unable to act upon this. Her mind flashed back to Holly's emotionless face when something hit her. She hadn't seen her own reflection in days.

She leapt up and ran into the kitchen, the one place other than the toilets that she knew she would find a mirror. It was small, cracked, and dirty, but what she looked at wasn't the Hermione she once was.

Her hair was darker – curly and untamed, but a couple shades darker. Her face was dotted with freckles, especially around the nose, freckles that she never had. Though Liam was feeding her, it clearly wasn't enough – her cheekbones jutted out slightly and her face looked much thinner. It wasn't any of these characteristics that struck her more than her eyes, however.

Brown was replaced by a crystal clear blue. Unlike the pair down in the basement, these were alive and sparkling.  


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**Don't forget to review!**

**And also, don't hesitate to mention any questions, thoughts, or theories you might have - I love reading them and wondering who is managing to fit the pieces together the quickest.**

**Till next time! Have a great weekend everyone.**

-heylooklisten


	16. Proposition

'Sup guys - new chapter, new POV, new revelations. I hope you like it!

**ps.** I was going to upload this the other day, but there was a glitch in the system and I couldn't post a new chapter. Thanks to the Help Desk Forum, I managed to get around it.

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"_Homenum revelio,_" Tonks muttered, her breath creating a little icy cloud in front of her. A low swooping sensation came over her and she slipped her wand back into her thick cloak, turning back to the two boys.

"What was that?" asked Ron, peering at the plain wooden door in front of them. The Gallagher's home was by the far the most in shape out of the dozen houses they already passed. It was near the very end of the path before the tangled forest concealed the rest of the land. Magic revealed Miss. Gallagher was inside and Tonks wasn't turning back until they had a word with her.

"That," she answered, giving the door another hard knock, "is a spell that reveals if any humans are in a certain surrounding. Neat, huh? Quite useful at times like these when you _need – a – word – with –_ " Before she could finish her sentence with one final thump on the door, it flew open half way. A tall, thin woman with a dark blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders stood in front of them looking rather irritable.

"I don't appreciate you disturbing my rest," she said coldly, her eyes drifting back and forth between them. Tonks resisted the urge to roll her eyes – she could have opened the door the first few times they knocked .

She cleared her throat. "We're terribly sorry, Mrs. Gallagher, but we need to ask you a few very important questions – "

"About my daughter?" Miss. Gallagher finished, her mouth a thin, dangerous line. "Spare me, I've heard it before."

"Actually, it's not so much about Holly," Tonks insisted. "We're sorry for your loss."

There was a spark in the woman's eye. "Oh, is _that_ right? Enlighten me."

Tonks narrowed her eyes slightly. There was no need for her to be so frigid about it. But she couldn't lose her temper again, this was all a part of the job. Moody would have her head for sure.

"We want to talk to you about Liam Woodsworth, he lives just up th – "

"I_ know_ who Liam is," she snapped, crossing her thin arms tightly. "What do you want with him?"

Tonks bit her tongue, refusing to lash out. "We think he's been involved with recent, erm, incidents and we need to speak to him urgently. Now, we've gotten word that he visited you recently – "

"I don't know what you're talking about," Miss. Gallagher said, cutting her off. "And who I speak to is not your concern. I advise you to leave Liam alone, he's been through quite enough as it is." With that, she began to close the door.

Ron stuck his foot into the doorway, preventing it from closing.

"What you tell us can save someone else," he cried. "Can't you just consider it?"

Miss. Gallagher set her jaw, giving them an icy look. Tonks sighed – the way Ron worded that was completely accusatory.

"Remove your foot," she whispered, her voice trembling. "And don't even think about returning."

Ron stepped back furiously, stalking off towards the path again. The door slammed shut with a bang. Tonks and Harry retreated back, following Ron glumly.

"Do Aurors get rejected this often?" Harry asked, glancing back at the Gallagher's home.

She grinned, stuffing her numb hands into her pocket. "When it comes to Muggles, yes. You should see the look on their faces when I decide to keep my regular hairdo."

Harry laughed, but stopped abruptly, looking to Ron worriedly. He was further ahead, dragging his feet with his head ducked. Tonks shook her head sympathetically – she never saw Ron so aggravated before. But she knew – even she could put two and two together and realize Hermione's situation hit him the hardest. She couldn't help but even relate. She knew how it felt, not knowing where the person you loved the most was, that they could be in serious danger at any second. She shook the haunting thought from her head.

"You know," Harry began. "I think some food will make Ron a little less cross."

Tonks chuckled lightly. "Too right, that should do the trick! How about we head into town for a quick lunch, yeah?" She paused. "By the way, don't let what I said before tarnish your view on Aurors. It's a great job, really!"

Harry grinned and nodded. With a slightly happier mood for a change, they hurried after Ron with the hunt for a hearty meal instead of dark wizards on their minds.

* * *

Liam shivered, looking down at the crumpled note in his hand for what must have been the tenth time. This was it – he looked up from where he stood, at the entrance of the graveyard, and peered out into the darkness before him. It was as if time stood still, and there wasn't a movement in sight. Only the low howl of the midnight wind greeted him for the next few minutes. Liam clenched his teeth, wondering if this had been a mere set up.

At last, a shadowy aura whirled in front of him and a tall man in dark robes appeared, face concealed by a silvery mask. Liam licked his lips anxiously and gripped his wand ever more tightly – he'd heard much about them, but never actually got to see them before. The stories were certainly true.

"Come with me," the man said, and he headed off deep into the graveyard. There was something strangely familiar about him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Liam followed him mechanically, suddenly cool and collected. This was no game – he'd come here for business and he wasn't leaving until he got it.

They walked on for ages. The graveyard spanned right across a field, encompassing the past residents of the town of Keswick, which was just a few kilometres east. Liam could make out some names on the tombstones from the dim moonlight - Charles, Fair, Harkness, O'Brien. The Death Eater's robes fluttered behind him eerily, and Liam couldn't help but notice he too was gripping his wand rather tightly.

They reached an opening – almost a dozen other Death Eaters were assembled in a semi-circle, waiting for their arrival. Liam narrowed his eyes, surveying the group. He didn't realize so many had to be there. It didn't matter, though - the one he sought stood in the middle, twirling his wand.

The Death Eater that accompanied him found his place next to his lord, and Liam stood before them alone. There was a moment of silence. The figure in the middle broke from the group, taking a few delicate steps towards him. Liam stood still, staring into his eyes with poise.

"Mr. Woodsworth," he said quietly, a hint of a hollow smile on his face. "So glad you found your way."

"Voldemort," Liam addressed, a rush of defiance running through his body.

The Dark Lord was now smiling broadly. "You've got quite the... _bold_ nature."

Liam returned his rather dark smile with one to match. "I've been told."

The Death Eaters around him stood stiffly, wands in hand. With their masks and dark robes, they all looked nearly identical. Oddly enough, not an ounce of fear coursed through Liam's body. If this was a couple years ago, he would have been rattling in his skin.

Voldemort turned to the Death Eater that brought him to them. "I'm sure you're quite acquainted with Severus here, Mr. Woodsworth?"

Liam watched, astonished, as Severus Snape removed his mask, revealing his face. He looked paler than usual, and eyed him with what looked like sympathy mixed with pity. Some people had their theories, but he never thought they could be true._ A Death Eater right under our noses at Hogwarts,_ he thought. _I suppose Dumbledore isn't the greatest wizard after all._

"You know why I'm here," said Liam, ignoring his Potion Master's presence. A owl hooted in the distance. Leafless trees swayed ominously. Voldemort cocked his head, assessing him.

"Yes," Voldemort replied lightly. "You requested I perform a complicated bit of Dark Magic for you."

"I've tried before," Liam explained monotonously. "It's much too advanced for a person like me."

"And why was it me you sought?"

Liam smirked. "You're the Dark Lord."

Voldemort chuckled lightly, though his laugh was void of any real emotion. He walked around Liam slowly, continuing to twirl his wand.

"You've performed deplorable actions, young Liam," Voldemort murmured. Liam stared straight ahead, only hearing his voice. "Enough to destroy the spirit of Hogwarts. I am impressed."

Liam felt no satisfaction. He continued to stare ahead stonily.

"Tell me," Voldemort hissed, extremely close to Liam's right ear. "How many died at your hands?"

"Too many," Liam breathed. "And it still isn't _enough_."

"You're lucky we don't kill you here and now with our own hands!" one of the Death Eaters shouted, causing a low ripple of agreements. Liam could only give them a crooked grin.

"Now, now, Lucius," Voldemort said, shooting him a daunting look. "That's not how we treat our guests."

Lucius Malfoy ignored him and whipped off his mask, looking at Liam with wild, red-rimmed eyes. "You killed my _son_."

Liam shrugged impassively. "I suppose I did."

Before Malfoy could lash out, Voldemort gave him an icy stare. Malfoy stepped back and slid the mask over his face instinctively without another word.

"Now," Voldemort continued, turning back to Liam, his black robes billowing behind him as the wind picked up. "Your request comes with a price. Do you have the wand?"

Liam nearly forgot he brought it along with him. He slid Hermione's wand out of his pocket and held it out for Voldemort with no hesitation.

"Excellent," he whispered, plucking it out of his hand. "I see to it that you get what you desire. But first, my price. The girl you have with you is no ordinary one. She has much value, and with her as bait, my task is easy..." Voldemort's scarlet eyes gleamed, illuminated by the moonlight. Liam stared into his disfigured face, into the eyes with an unspeakable power behind them.

He understood. "You want me to bring Harry Potter to you."

"Yes," he hissed. "Use the girl to lure Potter to me. I want him alive."

Liam clenched his teeth and furrowed his eyebrows. He was right – with Hermione Granger in his grips, Harry Potter was surely close behind. They were the best of friends. He would be a fool to ignore the fate of his friend. Harry was always the hero, and the hero thought about others before himself.

"You have a deal."

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**Please don't forget to review! Have a great week, everyone!**

-heylooklisten


	17. Secrets

**A/N** - I haven't updated my story in two months. I realize this, and I hope some people saw the message on my profile. If not, it doesn't matter now. School is over in exactly one month, so there _might_ not be updates until then. And then it's summer and I'll have all the time in the world, whew.

I'm sorry I kept you waiting for so long, but here's the new chapter and I hope you enjoy it!

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"It's silent times like these I miss our bickering. What if that never happens again?"

Ron leaned against one of the armchairs in the sitting room of the Burrow, staring into the crackling fireplace. The fire burned hot and he was grateful for the waves of heat that passed over him after a long day in the brutish winter cold. But no matter how long he sat there, the icy feeling that clenched Ron's heart refused to thaw.

"I didn't think you were the type to give up faith, Ron," remarked Harry, who sat leaning against another plush armchair across from him.

Ron looked steadily at Harry. He could see the blazing fire embers reflected in the greens of his eyes and wondered if they accurately mirrored Harry's own emotions.

"Of course I'm not," he snapped. "It's just – it's just hard to – "

Ron swallowed the lump forming in his throat and looked away, back at the dancing flames. He could feel Harry's eyes barreling down on him.

"You love her," Harry simply said, as if it was common knowledge. Ron tore his eyes away from the fire once again to blink at Harry, who now looked at him with almost a pitying expression. Harry was his best friend – of course he knew. What secrets could they keep from each other? This is the first time he heard the words come out of someone's mouth, so simple but with such an overwhelming truth behind them that Ron wondered why he didn't realize it sooner. He loved her, and that was it.

"Yeah," he finally replied dazedly, his voice sounding oddly far away. Ron couldn't try and deny it at this point and he let his stubbornness take leave just this once. For her sake. "Yeah. I kind of do."

They stayed silent and continued watching the crackling fire. It was nearing midnight and neither of them felt tired, though their exhausting journey with Tonks in Rickshaw should have seen them passed out ages ago. They raked right through the town's lower valley but found little valuable information after what old Elene told them. What the woman said was true – the town did not answer to the calls of authority and kept their doors locked shut. Tonks retreated back to the Ministry with what information they did manage to find, promising to let him and Harry know what the Aurors deduced when she arrived for them the next morning. All they could do was wait.

"Is it that obvious?" Ron blurted out, unable to keep the thought out of his head.

Harry looked mildly taken aback. "Were you trying to keep it a secret or something?"

He narrowed his eyes at the remark. "How long?"

"How long?" Harry repeated earnestly. "Since the beginning of our fourth year, mate."

Ron heaved a heavy sigh and crossed his arms. He was right – it could even go as far back as the very end of third year. He wondered how many other people picked up on it, too. Surely his twin brothers, but they were devilish enough to keep it to themselves and watch from the sidelines.

"I was going to tell her that day," he whispered. The fire suddenly seemed too bright and Ron averted his eyes to the familiar quill he was twirling in his hand. "At Hogsmeade. I don't know what the hell possessed me to, but I was going to and – "

He set his jaw and thought of Woodsworth, who currently had her in his grips. Ron still couldn't believe the bastard had the nerve to talk to him back in Hogwarts – he also couldn't believe he let him walk away. He twisted the quill in his hand gently, anger heating up his mind.

"Hermione's a fighter," Harry insisted fiercely, leaning forward. "She'll be all right, and this is going to end well for everyone. Trust me."

"Except for _him_," Ron retorted, scowling at the fire as if it embodied Woodsworth.

Harry leaned back and nodded. "Except for him."

* * *

Severus Snape stood at the base of the frost-covered hill and peered upwards – the figure he was looking for was already there, his back towards him, staring up at the clear night's sky. Severus took one sharp look behind him and trudged up the hill hastily, his black robes billowing quietly behind him.

He knew Dumbledore could sense him approaching, but he continued staring up at the diamond dotted sky, his hands clasped behind his back – the robes he wore tonight nearly resembled it.

"Severus," Dumbledore said the moment they were next to each other. Severus looked up at the night sky silently, arms crossed. He could never figure out why Dumbledore was always looking up to the heavens when they met on nights like these on this very hill. It was a hill of confessions, of plotting, and especially of swapping information.

Dumbledore tore his eyes from the sky to survey Severus' face from behind his characteristic half-moon spectacles. Dumbledore wasn't a fool – he knew this was about Voldemort, but how much more did he figure out?

"It is late for friendly conversation," Dumbledore said lightly. "What could not wait, Severus, that you had to summon me tonight?"

"It is far too risky to send post," Severus replied, weary eyes darting around the scenery, looking for prying souls. "It could have been easily intercepted. I trust that you know this."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "We must be brief. You were called for by Voldemort tonight – by what grounds did he need you?"

"On his order did most of the Death Eaters gather, but – " Severus paused. "We were merely an audience for his guest."

A moment passed before Dumbledore understood and even under the moonlight, Severus noticed his face blanch considerably.

"Not the boy," he whispered gently.

Severus gave him a brisk nod. "They have formed an allegiance to benefit one another. From what I understand, the Dark Lord is going to perform a complicated bit of dark magic for Woodsworth in exchange for Potter. I'm obliged to believe this will also put Miss Granger into harm's way."

Severus waited as Dumbledore absorbed the new information. Moments later, he responded with, "You must coax out when – and soon."

Severus set his jaw, slightly irritated. "It will not be that _easy_," he replied rather forcefully.

Dumbledore shot him a keen look. "Try. Lives are at stake. Try, Severus."

A thought sprung to his mind. "I find it extremely unlikely the Dark Lord will keep his word and help Woodsworth regardless. He is a mediocre Muggle-born, after all..." he said delicately.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, turning his head up towards the stars again. The moon's glow made his silvery beard illuminated, and could probably be seen at a distance, much to Severus' dismay. "Do not be so sure of yourself, Severus."

Severus knitted his eyebrows together. "I hardly think so. Who is Woodsworth to the Dark Lord but a mere Muggle-born boy?

There seemed to be more lines on Dumbledore's face from the last time they met. He gave Severus a tired look, the same look he gave him when tribulations were soon to come. The wind gave a low howl and Severus stiffened, looking over his shoulder nervously.

"There are dangerous secrets," Dumbledore said quietly. "Secrets about the Woodsworths that very few know about."

"I assume you know these 'secrets'?"

He nodded gravely. "Voldemort has knowledge of them too."

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**Thoughts? Please don't forget to review and thanks for sticking with the story!**

-heylooklisten


	18. Summer Plaits

**A/N** - ... I LIED. New chapter! Your reviews convinced me to update you quicker, to make up for the delay before. I suppose a Hermione update was something people were looking forward to, something I didn't provide in the last chapter. So here is a chapter exclusively on Hermione's progress, enjoy!

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**PLEASE READ**

_With the last Harry Potter movie coming out soon, I have an amazing video compilation to show you created by a YouTube user that summarizes the beautiful spirit that Harry Potter originally had in the books. It is my favourite Harry Potter video on Youtube, and it is actually the most amazing piece of work from a fan I have ever seen. Take the time to watch it, and I promise you, you will cry. Every time I watch it, I do. Remember, Harry Potter will never die - to rephrase a Dumbledore quote, the spirit of Harry Potter will only truly have left this world when there are none loyal to it._

It currently sits at 400,000+ views. Please, take the time to watch it, you won't regret it. I can't paste the link here for some reason, but it's called "Harry Potter | Marchin On". GO NOW!

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She heard a faint creak on the porch, and then another, and knew it was time. Hermione swung her legs off the bed and stood up, her stomach churning equally with disgust and uneasiness. Standing stock-still under her door frame, she waited for him. She stared straight ahead – the front door of the home was directly opposite at the other side. The door of the basement was left ajar, a daring act she purposely allowed. Doors, doors, doors – she had had enough of them. With each new one she opened here, she fell across something she deeply regretted. A bubbling yearn inside of Hermione told her there was only one doorknob her hand itched to turn, and right at that moment, the door in question creaked open wearily.

A cold draft rushed past her as Liam took a step in and closed the door softly behind him, his head bowed. Like a dog sensing an enemy, he froze and turned around, meeting Hermione's eyes across the hall. He stared at her with a sort of boyish confusion, and Hermione couldn't help but notice how normal he looked for once. There was a tiredness in his eyes, and his pale face had a sudden rush of colour high on his cheeks, from what Hermione thought was the warmth of house.

And then he smiled.

Hermione was taken aback, and it was all she could do to prevent her mouth opening in surprise. He still didn't notice the basement door as he slid his gloves off his stuffed them into his coat, then shrugged that off, his eyes still surveying her. Even the colour of his eyes seemed to brighten, resembling the jewel-like eyes of the baby photo upstairs.

"Hermione?" he said lightly, furrowing his eyebrows quizzically. She didn't know what to make of his behaviour and nervously wiped the sweaty palms of her hand on the side of her trousers.

He took a couple steps towards her, looking at her like she was a foreign wonder. "The resemblance is uncanny..." he mused almost blissfully, and flicked his eyes over her face. "But there is still one thing. Come here."

Hermione gulped, mentally cursing herself for being so incredibly feeble. Still, she marvelled over the fact that she wasn't afraid of him, not like before. She felt like she could approach him without the fear of being hurt – it was as if a new person had transformed in front of her.

As if he knew what she was thinking, he gave her a slight grin. "Don't worry – I'm not going to hurt you."

It was a genuineness she had never seen in him before. Her feet weren't frozen anymore, and she walked towards him cautiously. But she still didn't forget what hid below them.

He circled around her and she licked her lips warily when she felt the tips of his fingers on her head. Gently, he ran his fingers through her now tamed, dark hair and she felt him part it. With skill and precision, he plaited.

"How did this happen?" she asked, lowering her eyes to look at her feet.

"What? The appearance change?" he replied in friendly banter. "A special potion I brewed up helped your hair colour and texture become like hers. No big deal."

Hermione wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. Slipping potions into a person's drink was definitely a 'big deal', but she didn't question him further.

"And the face?"

"Just a charm. Little additions like freckles and eye colour are easy. I'm sure you know how it's done."

She did, but she didn't admit it. She continued standing there, feeling his fingers work on her hair and the heat pulsating off his body. Finally, with a toss of the finished plait onto her shoulder, he turned to face and examine her.

He smiled widely, proud at the fruit of his labour. Hermione couldn't help but notice it was the type of expression she had when she got back a perfectly scored assignment – and he probably felt the same.

"Go on," he insisted. "Take a look."

And so she ducked into the bathroom to look at herself in the grimy mirror, angling her head – her hair was all tied back in a perfect plait down the middle of her head that extended into a tight, thick braid.

Still in awe at the precision in which he braided, she returned to him. "How did you do it so well?"

Liam shrugged, but he was visibly pleased at the compliment. Hermione couldn't help but be reminded of Ron, who played off her compliments and claimed everything came naturally to him.

"I used to plait Holly's hair," he said, a blissful smile plastered on his face as his memories surfaced. "She taught me, and during the summers in the orchards, she asked me to plait it for her. She insisted she couldn't do it nicely on her own, but I couldn't tell the difference."

_Of course you couldn't, you're a boy,_ Hermione thought, amused, his voice becoming distant as she absorbed herself in her thoughts. She was still baffled at why he was being so incredibly friendly to her – because she looked just like Holly? Or because he was beginning to trust her? If it was the latter, she kicked herself mentally for leaving that basement a crack open. If he saw it now, he would never act like this again, and her chances at leaving this place unharmed will slim.

"Why don't we sit down?" she blurted out, interrupting his digression. Liam stopped talking and gave her a mildly surprised look. "In the sitting room?"

"A-Alright," he said dazedly, rather pleased. "Shall I make tea?"

Hermione smiled. "That would be lovely. I'm just going to duck into the loo, if that's fine."

He left, and when she heard the clangs of a kettle and the slamming of the cupboard door, Hermione inched her ways towards the basement door and closed it shut completely. She let out a sigh of relief and made the gesture of pushing her hair back, but of course, it would remain plaited from now on.

She walked into the sitting room and sat down at the table, eyeing Liam. No matter how hard she thought, she couldn't think up an explanation as to why his attitude was suddenly so cheerful. He could be any regular teenage boy now, incapable of any of the deplorable things the Liam who snatched her from Hogsmeade had done. An icy chill ran up her spine as she remembered the decayed corpse of Ms. Woodsworth and the unnaturally preserved body of the pretty girl with freckles laying beneath them.

Hermione had the pieces, but she struggled to fit them together. This Liam was the one she remembered, the odd but nice Ravenclaw boy she happened upon in the library from time to time. If this friendly boy is who Liam Woodsworth is, who was her assailant? Who killed Ms. Woodsworth and the many innocent students at Hogwarts? No, it couldn't be this boy, not the one who was whistling a merry tune, waiting for his tea to finish. Her mind worked rapidly – was it possible for two people to alternate in the same mind, the same body? What kind of magic was behind this?

A little light-bulb seemed to flicker in her head as soon as the kettle started whistling.

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**What did you think? Leave me a review! Thanks for reading. :)  
**

-heylooklisten


	19. Through and Through

**A/N** - Three chapters in the same week, whoooooa. Let's just say I've been inspired. Enjoy the new chapter!

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The cold was bitter enough to cause Harry's hands to go numb, but he clung on to the wooden shaft of his Firebolt even tighter and swooped down to catch the falling Quaffle, one hand stretched out. The sensation of the wind rushing through his hair and burning his eyes, the exhilarating drops and twists, were things he dearly missed. Seconds before the Quaffle hit the earth, he leaned forward boldly and tucked it into his arm, using his other arm to crank the broom back up before he slammed into the ground. He pelted forward towards the hoop, which was the branches of two tall trees arching and weaving together to create a circle. Ron hovered steadily, ready for him, and Harry edged the broom to go faster. He faked a move to the left, and Ron bought it – Harry darted the opposite way and whipped the Quaffle through the hoop triumphantly.

"Brilliant fake!" Ron called grudgingly. "Switch to a bloody Chaser, why don't you?"

Harry grinned, his grip relaxing. "You're slipping up today, what gives?"

Even from where Harry was flying, he could see Ron narrow his eyes.

"I think that's obvious," Ron shouted back, and he swooped down to retrieve the Quaffle from the ground. Harry sighed and watched him go. When they started, he could see that Ron was a bit happier to be on a broom and in the air again, but his thoughts were clearly catching up to him again. He wished Ginny was playing with them, but she insisted she wasn't in the mood, much to his disappointment.

A sudden glint in the distance caught his eye and he squinted towards the Burrow beyond the orchard. Two figures were walking towards the house – the glint unmistakably came from the gleaming silver beard of Dumbledore, much to his surprise.

"Ron!" he yelled excitedly, rocketing down. "We've got to get back to the Burrow – "

"I thought we were playing best four out of seven?" Ron said, face flushed red and hair wind swept.

Harry shook his head impatiently, his breath clouding up in front of him. "Dumbledore is here."

Ron raised his eyebrows and without another word, they both made a straight beeline back towards the house.

Less than thirty seconds later, they jumped off their brooms and opened the door to the Burrow. Dumbledore and Tonks stood in the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley, and they all turned towards the panting boys. As glad as Harry was to see Dumbledore, a sinking feeling in his gut questioned why .

"Well now that we're all here," Tonks piped, breaking the silence. "Dumbledore is here to share some important information. This will be news to me too."

Harry looked at Dumbledore, confused. It definitely was not good news by his serious expression, and he suddenly didn't know whether or not he wanted to hear it.

Dumbledore sighed. "I have reason to believe that you are in danger, Harry."

There was a pause, and everyone around Harry started talking at once.

"Danger?" cried Ron. "How?"

"My goodness," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, clutching the special Weasley family clock tight against her chest. "Is it – do you know – "

"Could it possibly be related to Hermione? Or is this another rouse by the Death Eaters?" Tonks asked, equally shocked.

Dumbledore raised his hands, cutting them all off. Harry averted his gaze downwards, absorbing the information. _He was in danger... _but when was he ever safe? The question now was, what was the reason this time? A tight pain rippled across his forehead and he slapped his palm against it, squeezing his eyes shut and seeing red. There

When the sting faded, he looked back up again, and all their eyes were locked on Harry, lit up with worry and curiosity.

"It's Voldemort," he said, his voice hoarse. He rubbed his scar anxiously. "What does he want from me?"

Now their eyes were back on Dumbledore, who looked enormously more tired than usual. The atmosphere was tense and pessimistic, and much to his dismay, he thought the Burrow was the last place he'd feel like this.

"I regret to say this is linked to Miss Granger's disappearance," he began.

Ron paled rapidly. Even though his hands were in the pockets of his jumper, Harry could see they were balled into fists.

"What do you m-mean?" Ron stuttered.

"Mr. Woodsworth met with Voldemort and his Death Eaters," he began. "Yes, he alone knows the whereabouts of Miss. Granger. Regrettably, the two shook on a deal."

"Deal?" Harry asked, licking his lips nervously. "What do I have to do with it?"

"He knows you will go to the ends of the Earth to find your friend, Harry," Dumbledore whispered, light blue eyes unwavering. "They both do."

Harry bowed his head, unable to look at Ron. So he put Hermione into more ten times more danger than she already was. He never wanted this for anyone he held dear. There was a lump in his throat and he tried to swallow it down, looking back to Dumbledore.

"Voldemort asked Mr. Woodsworth to seek you out. With or without Death Eater assistance is unknown, but whatever the boy wants with Miss. Granger will only come after your capture." Dumbledore paused. "Harry, I ask that you – "

"No," he said, cutting his Headmaster off. Ginny was suddenly at the base of the stairs, listening into the conversation. By the pained look on her face, she'd heard it all. "Ron and I will continue trying to find her, and if I'm the bait, so be it."

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice hushed. "You could be killed! Look at the damage he's done already – "

"I don't know if any of you have noticed, but for my whole life, I've only ever been in danger," he said, his voice growing loud. "And as much I try to prevent it, I always end up putting other people I love in danger. If I'm responsible, I won't stop until I set things right. What kind of friend am I if I stop looking for Hermione?

Dumbledore simply looked at him. "I understand. Miss. Tonks is waiting for you, then."

"Stay on your toes, Harry," advised Tonks, her hair a spiky turquoise today. "The Aurors will set up protection for you, but regardless, you're a target now. This is getting even more complicated..."

He nodded mutely and looked past them at Ginny, locking eyes with her for a moment before he turned towards the door, Ron and Tonks following closely behind him.

"Ron?" he said cautiously, analyzing his best friend's face. Ron stopped.

"Before you ask, Harry, we're best mates. I may be putting myself in danger being with you, but I wouldn't have it any other way," Ron shrugged and offered him a feeble smile. "We'll stick through this together."

Relieved, Harry couldn't help but feel a rush of appreciation for Ron. With a broad smile, he and Ron caught up to Tonks, ready to apparate into whatever trouble was waiting for them out there.

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**I'd appreciate some reviews! I hope you liked it, and enjoy your weekend! :)**

**p.s. - Are there any forums or communities I should join or check out? I'm quite new to outside of reading and writing stories.**


	20. Psychosis

**A/N**- I graduated from high school :) So as that chapter of my life ends, I give you this new chapter. I hope you enjoy it and please offer feedback!

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"House elves? _That's_ what you want to study?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, folding her legs up on the couch she sat in. "Don't be silly, it's more than that – I'm interesting in improving the quality of life for house elves. It's disgusting how they're treated!"

Next to her, Liam bit his lip and cast his eyes upward thoughtfully. "You _do_ have a fair point."

"Of course I do!" she cried, getting worked up. "They should be treated like us, with proper pay and given days off, even vacations. Do you see the rags they're given to wear? It's horribly indecent! They're not slaves!"

Liam merely stared at her, eyebrows raised and expression taken aback. A wave of heat rushed to her face in slight embarrassment, but she held her chin high and took another gulp of tea.

"How considerate of you," he said, a genuine smile decorating his face.

She returned it. The past few days saw more progress than the past few weeks – the wounded soul Hermione only saw flashes of before was present all the time. She felt the odd sensation of meeting someone for the first time, even though he was familiar now. Liam treated her like a doting friend, and as bizarre as it was, Hermione couldn't help but opening up in return. As the days passed by, she grew fonder of him. Together, they even restored the main floor of the Woodsworth home to spotlessness because Liam sensed her discomfort, though only he used magic. Hermione was grateful – the air was clean, the floors were polished, and the furniture looking brand new once again.

She enjoyed his company. He only left the home twice in the past few days – otherwise, they shared many light conversations, mostly about academics. He was as normal as anyone with a haunting past she only knew tidbits about – she couldn't believe she didn't pick up on it before, but it was obvious now that Liam was suffering from a sort of split personality disorder and he didn't know it. What else could it be? There was the innocent boy who sat across now with laugh lines and eyes as bright as jewels when he spoke, but he harboured a violent, cruel stranger within. Liam succumbed to this personality in times of stress, threat, and especially anger – it was Hermione's job to make sure that never happened again. As she formed a stronger friendship with his true identity, she grew more sympathetic about his situation. But that didn't make her forget her own.

"Well, what are you interested in?" she asked, shaking the thought from her head.

Liam shrugged, looking away. "At one point I did think of Law Enforcement – you know, abolishing pro-pureblood laws?"

"That's wonderful!" she said, impressed. Hermione couldn't help but notice the light leave the dark greens of his eyes ever so slightly. "What's changed?"

He turned his body so he was facing straight ahead, towards the large painting of field poppies that decorated the sitting room's wall. Hermione immediately regretted asking the question.

"Everything," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, playing with her fingers nervously. "That was insensitive of me."

"Hermione," he said abruptly, turning back towards her. His face was visibly pained, eyebrows knitted tightly. "Why do you still put up with this?"

She opened her mouth, and then closed it, staring at him with a stunned expression. He continued searching her face desperately.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, sitting up straight. The atmosphere was thick with tension.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his shock of light brown hair. "You _know_ what I'm talking about – look at what I've done, what I've put you through. Why do you treat me like I deserve your respect?"

Hermione gaped, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Tell me why," she asked, testing him. "Why have you done what you've done?"

His gaze pierced her as he mulled over the question.

"I don't know," he answered finally, fingering the single sterling silver feather on his necklace he always wore. "I don't think – I can't explain it to you, but when I'm actually doing these vile actions, it feels so right. And then – and then I regret them. As much as I tell myself I'll never do it again, I find myself in the same situations every time. How sick is that?"

"Liam," Hermione said quietly, struggling to put what she was about to say in good words. "What you've done isn't your fault. Look at me now and tell me if you have the ability to slit my throat right here."

He shot her a look of disbelief and disgust. "Of course not, I would never."

"You would, Liam, but not in the state you're in now," she accused, ignoring his hurt glance. "This isn't to do with you – this is a psychological disorder messing with your head."

There was a moment of silence. Liam grew pale and stared at her wide-eyed.

"H-how can you be sure of that?" he whispered, rising to his feet. "Are you saying there's something wrong with me?"

"Doesn't this clear everything up for you?" she cried, shooting up from the couch. "You've been suffering terribly, Liam, and this is what it's done to you! You have a split personality that's feeding off your grief and is using that to manipulate you! That side of you would kill me without a second thought."

Liam abandoned his confused look and set his jaw, glaring hard at her.

"I'm not that weak. That can't be true."

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You just need some help – you're not to blame – "

"I'm not some mental case!" he roared, eyes flashing defensively. "I _know_ who I am – "

Hermione took two steps towards him until they were inches from each other. She looked up at him, determined to help him see the light.

"If I were lying," she whispered, "You wouldn't get angry if did _this_."

She took both her hands and shoved him in the chest as hard as she could. Caught off guard, Liam stumbled backwards, his leg hitting the small coffee table behind him.

"The hell was that for?" he spat, shooting her a furious look.

Hermione wasn't finished.

"Stop being a coward and own up to what you know," she shouted, shoving him again. "The only reason you're okay with any of this is the stupid hope you're clinging to."

Another hard shove, but he stumbled less. Liam looked flabbergasted but she could sense his temper bubbling.

"She's _dead,_ Liam! Nothing can change that, and no matter what you do, she's going to remain dead so get _over_ it! Stop being such a stubborn child and ACCEPT THAT!"

Before she could give him one final shove, she saw the split second change. Liam raised his hands and pushed her with an enormous amount of force. The breath was forced from her lungs when she smacked against the wall and slid down, pain throbbing through her back,

When the stars faded from her eyes, she looked up weakly. Liam stood above her, a horrified expression plastered across his face. He panted and stumbled back, his hand on his forehead.

"Do you believe me now?" Hermione murmured.

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I hope you guys enjoyed it! I'd appreciate some reviews :)

**PLEASE READ** - I have another video to share with you all, and this one is just as good (if not better) than the one I posted in my last chapter, if you can believe it. It's on YouTube and it's called "Harry Potter - Through the Pensieve", or you can click the link on my profile page. It's absolutely beautiful, and is a perfect farewell to Harry Potter as July 15th approaches.

-heylooklisten


	21. Abandoned Blood

**A/N** - Hey guys! So, who's excited for Pottermore? Imagine all the fanfiction that's going to come out of the new information JKR is going to reveal ;P

Here's the new chapter, with a bit of a twist that took forever to reveal! Enjoy!

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Liam snatched his coat off the coat rack and slammed the door shut, ignoring the creeping sensation of guilt he felt every time he lost himself. The blue of the sky diluted to a soft orange in the western horizon – he felt a strange jealousness, because with the sun's disappearance came the reassurance of the day's end. There was no telling when the nightmare he was in would ever end.

Still, adrenaline was still coursing through his veins and he squinted towards the west, his task written for him. There was no point in idling, especially not when he got followers of the dark arts involved. Not that he harboured any fear at this point, he thought, slipping his wand into his pocket.

He kept his hood up during the short journey, stiff and wary about his surroundings. The snow had lessened considerably and the pines of the tall, dark trees were visible again. Signs of an early spring, something Rickshaw rarely saw. Liam hated that he knew the town well enough to realize the characteristic. He had no personal ties to his surroundings, he realized, as his eyes drifted across the landscape he grew up on. Even Hogwarts, as wonderful as he thought it was at first, didn't feel like home. No father, no mother, no home. No Holly.

After three raps on the Gallagher door, Liam stepped back, arms crossed. Recognizing the knock, the door eventually creaked open slightly for him. He heard footsteps walk away – bemused, he pushed the door open and stepped in.

"Camille?" he mumbled, shaking the snow off his boots. He found her in the kitchen, sitting by a tiny circular table, her usual cup of steaming coffee next to her. Her arms were crossed across her ruffled shawl, and the eyes he knew so well bore down on him with something he never saw before. Suspicion.

"A group of investigators came banging on my door a few days ago," she began coolly, raising her pointed chin. "Strange thing is though they did not ask about Holly – they asked about you."

"What of it?" he replied impatiently.

Her lips were a tight line. "They suspected you of being a part of _recent incidents._ Do you know anything about this?"

Liam tossed his head back and laughed, but it was void of any warmness. Unable to stand still, he paced the kitchen.

"So what, you trust the word of strangers now?" he accused, glaring at her. "Given up siding with me, have you? What else did they tell you?"

She sighed and rubbed her temples, exasperated. "Nothing, never mind."

He slammed his fist on the table, causing the cup of coffee to crash into the floor and shatter. Camille flinched violently and she squeezed her shut, her hand flying to her heart.

"_What else did they tell you_?" he hissed, leaning into her. He was unable to control himself now.

"Nothing!" she cried, her eyes still seamed shut. "They only said if I talked to them I could – I could help save another life. I told them to leave, Liam!"

He straightened up, unimpressed, and began pacing the room again.

"What has happened to you?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "You've changed..."

He looked back at her. Her eyes were open now, wide with fear.

"Haven't you?" he asked, rather insulted. "She was _your _daughter."

Camille stooped down, picking up the pieces of broken glass. Liam watched her, having no inclination towards helping.

"I'm not referring to that," she said stiffly, lifting each shard delicately. "This isn't who you are. Look at what you've become."

"Trust me," muttered Liam, touching Holly's necklace. "By the time this is over, you'll have thanked me."

She peered up at him warily. "By the time what is over, exactly?"

"I can't tell you anything now, but keep your mouth shut, and you'll be rewarded in due time." He pulled a neatly folded note out of his pocket. "If you care about me at all, you'll do this one favour for me."

She stood up slowly, placing the broken glass on the table. Camille eyed the note in his hand before meeting his gaze.

"The three who questioned will return to Rickshaw, I guarantee it. Give this," he said, offering the note to Camille, "to the one who's visibly wounded. You'll see it in their eyes."

She plucked the note from him a trembling, thin hand. Liam could see the confusion masking the fright in the blues of her eyes.

"You're the only one I trust with this," he said fiercely. "I'm sorry. For everything."

With that, he spun around and left her standing there, not offering her a backwards glance.

* * *

Severus watched the remaining Death Eaters exit the drawing room, an uneasy churning in his stomach. Lucius Malfoy shot them one final scornful look before closing the double doors behind him.

He turned his attention back to Voldemort, sitting on his rather majestic chair. Nagini snaked herself around the crown of the chair, eyeing Severus curiously. He was flanked by Bellatrix, who eyed Voldemort with an adoring hunger, and Avery, who looked rather confused as to why he remained instead of Lucius. Voldemort placed a hand on Nagini, and the three of them simultaneously knelt down. Severus stared hard at the marble floor of the Malfoy Manor, his mind racing.

"Quiet at last," Voldemort murmured. Remaining knelt, Severus took this as a sign to look up. The other two did the same. "Rise, faithful followers."

They obeyed. Silent, indeed – soon, the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the soft hisses of Nagini.

"We have been at leisure far too long, my friends..." began Voldemort, scarlett eyes flicking like clockwork between the three Death Eaters. "We do not want the Wizarding World to forget us, do we?"

"My Lord," Severus said, clearing his throat. "What of the boy you ordered to capture Potter?"

Voldemort smiled and continued stroking Nagini. "He will undoubtedly follow through, soon. We must be prepared."

"How can we trust him, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, rather bitter. "What is he but a foolish little _mudblood_?"

"Ah, patience, Bellatrix," hissed Voldemort, the fire's glow illuminating his pale face. "Your blood is no purer than is."

Severus narrowed his eyes the same time Bellatrix gasped softly – he didn't know if it was in surprise or offense.

"My Lord, Woodsworth entered Hogwarts as a muggle-born, surely there is a – "

"No," Voldemort interrupted, his eyes gleaming with a hidden treasure. "His roots are with us, and in time, he will return to them."

"Shall I spare the boy?" Bellatrix said, disappointment colouring her voice. "I hoped to carve his pretty little face off after is insolence towards you, my Lord."

Severus remained confused, searching Voldemort's face for answers. His eyes now slithered to Avery, who remained stiff and quiet.

"Rather silent today, Avery," Voldemort remarked, a cold smile playing on his lips.

"Mulling over why I've replaced Lucius, my Lord..." Avery murmured. Severus surveyed him – it was hard to tell what the man's expression was under his thick, brown beard and furrowed eyebrows. He, too, wondered what Avery's purpose here was – Severus watched Avery's unwavering gaze, stumped.

"Lucius is still preoccupied with the death of Draco," said Voldemort apathetically. "As are Crabbe and Goyle. They are weak – but you are not."

Bellatrix sniffed irritably, jealous at the compliment, and began twirling her wand in the locks of her hair in defeat.

"My Lord," Severus said, meeting his snake-like eyes. "You say the Woodsworth boy has his roots here, among us. You say he's pure. How did you come to find out this information?"

"I have known. I have always known." Voldemort's flicked back to Avery, his smile returning, and waved his hand towards Bellatrix and Severus. "I think our friends here deserve the truth, Avery, and who better than from you?"

Avery stiffened, a hint of a glower flashing across his face. The burly man cleared his throat, choosing against disobedience. He raised his head and turned to his fellows – almost reluctantly, Severus thought. There was a pause; Nagini hissed impatiently, her eyes resembling gleaming coals against the fire's glow. Bellatrix stopped twirling the wand in her hair and crossed her arms. Avery shifted uncomfortably, his eyes shadowed over with what looked like a mix of guilt and fear.

"_Reveal your secret_," Voldemort hissed.

"The blood that courses through the boy is that of Avery," he blurted out roughly. "He is my own. Liam is my son."

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**I hoped you liked it, and I'd love if you left a review about what you thought! Cheers! **


	22. Loyalties

I know, I know.. I haven't updated in three months. Coincidentally, no updates since I finished high school, and now I update when I've begun university. Oh, school procrastination, you love me. In fact, I'm uploading this in the middle of a lecture, haha. I turned 18 a month ago! Weeeeee! Anyway, what I've been doing this summer isn't important - you want to read the story, so here's a new chapter. Gosh I've missed writing this. Sorry for the long wait guys, I'm sure you forgot this even existed haha. Times like these when Alerts come in handy, eh?

Enjoy!

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Christmas lights still garnished the giant houses in Rickshaw's upper valley over two months after the holiday, Ron noticed, mesmerized by what looked like hundreds of tiny, colourful stars, though dusk was still an hour away. He grabbed the swinging blue tassels of his hat and pulled it down tighter over his head, swallowing the lump in his throat away when he remembered it was of the Christmas gifts Hermione gave him, days prior to her disappearance. The bright dots of colour before him began blur into each other.

"Ron," called Tonks, her voice floating up behind him. "We'd wondered where you went."

He composed himself and turned around, watching Tonks and Harry reach the mouth of the neighbourhood. After a day around the village's main square that connect both valleys, the exhaustion Ron felt was also reflected in the other two's faces. The people here were just as reserved as the lower valley. They must have talked to dozens of people, but here they were, with just as much relevant information they started with early that morning.

"So?" said Ron, sliding his numbing hands into his pockets. Many shoppers from the square were beginning to head home for the night, hurrying past the trio into the neighbourhood. "Do we keep going, or what?"

Harry shrugged wearily. "What else _can_ we do? "

"Nobody's talking in this stupid, frigid town..." he mumbled, apparently loud enough for a couple of passer-bys to award him a lingering glare.

Tonks sighed, her breath clouding up in front of her. "I'm afraid Harry's right. When a case is this tough, you can only hope for someone to know something, anything. Connecting dots is much harder when our problems are so heavily mixed in with the Muggle world.

"I still think a couple of the people we've talked to were holding information back," Ron grumbled. "Any chance we can slip them some _Veritaserum_?"

Tonks put her hands on her hips and shot him a shrewd look. "Come on then, we've got a couple more houses to visit before we check back in at the Ministry."

He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I don't...think..."

He trailed off, his eyes looking past Tonks' shoulder. The small, stone bridge that connected the upper valley with the main square was dispersing now as last minute stragglers crossed over. One hooded woman stood on the arch, a woolly blue shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders. Ron couldn't tell by the distance, but he could have sworn she met eyes with him. Before he could blink again, she disappeared behind the arch, back into the square.

"...Ron? Did you listen to anything I just said?"

"You guys go on without me for a bit," he said, his voice far away, eyes still locked on the bridge "I forgot to do something... I'll be back."

With that, he hurried back towards the bridge, ignoring Tonks' and Harry's yells.

_I've seen her before_, Ron thought, nearly crashing into a woman carrying several bags in his haste**. **_Is she following us?_

Now he stood where she stood, peering out into the main square. The shops and buildings were closing down now as the lamp posts flickered on. He narrowed his eyes, trying to look for the woman.

Sprinting down the bridge, he hurried into the village square, looking up and down the small streets. She couldn't have disappeared into thin air. With a curse, he headed west down the main road. Ron had a feeling in his gut that this was no coincidence, and with the lack of progress they accomplished today, it hoped this was worth it. Advancement

He trekked through what remained of the snow, being careful not to slip on hidden surfaces of ice.

"Shops are closed, lad!" a gruff old man bellowed from the door of his shop up ahead. "Get going!"

Ron curled his lip. Before he could retort back, he heard a faint voice.

"Here. _Here_."

He whipped his head around – again, she was retreating across the frozen creek behind the post office and into the forest that eventually lead to the lower valley.

Ron slipped into the narrow space between the post office and the building next to it, heading towards the creek. He put his foot on the ice cautiously and found it to be rather rough – walking across with ease, he disappeared into the dark trees after her.

If there was any type of noise out in the square, it was completely blocked off in here. Soon, all he could hear was his own breath and the slow creak of icy branches above him.

He crunched forward slowly, peering into the dimness. Every crack in the distance made him go stiff with anxiety, and he was glad he had his wand with him. Finally, he stumbled into a tiny clearing where the woman was standing, retreating no more. She tossed her hood back, revealing a thick, dark braid and piercing eyes that resembled the ice that covered the land around them.

They stood there silently, analyzing each other. Yes, he recognized her – it was the mother of the dead girl they visited last week. She looked much more emotionally drained then he remembered her, noticing her pallid complexion and red rimmed eyes.

"You've got a lot of nerve following us after asking us not to come back to you," he began, recalling her cold rejection.

"Trusting strangers isn't something I can do anymore," she said, her voice slightly hoarse.

Ron set his jaw, offering no remorse. "Don't tell me you led me into a bloody forest just to say you're scared of strangers."

"No," Ms. Gallagher insisted, her eyes darting in every direction. Something was bothering this woman. "You were right about Liam. There's... there's something wrong with him."

Ron widened his eyes. "Where is he?"

She shook her head. "He's gone now, but he came to me. What you said about him, being responsible for horrible things... was that true?"

He felt her search his face desperately, looking for answers.

"He isn't who you think he is," he admitted. "He's hurt a countless amount of people. It's complicated, but you can't trust him."

She let out what sounded like a whimper and looked down, her hand on her forehead.

"He's all I had left..." she whispered. "I've lost him too."

Ron couldn't help but feel a little empathy at this point. He hated to admit it, but they were alike in the sense that they both lost someone dear.

"How do you know him?" she asked, curiosity momentarily masking the hurt on her face.

"We were, er... at the same school." Ron mumbled, hoping he didn't slip something about the Wizarding World.

She nodded slowly, still watching his face.

"You know," she began quietly. "Liam told me to seek out the one who looked the most distraught out of your group, and it was one of the easiest things I've ever done. Has he hurt you, too?"

Ron barely heard the last part.

"He – he wanted you to find me?" Ron stuttered, completely aghast. Above them, the orange had completely disappeared from the sky's canvas and a few stars dotted the darkening skies. He didn't want to stay in here when it was going to be pitch black.

"He told me to pass this on to you," Mrs. Gallagher said, pulling a folded note out of her coat pocket. "I haven't read it, if that's what you're thinking."

Of course that isn't what he was thinking – Ron stared at the night in her trembling hand, wondering what that monster could possibly want to say to him, of all people. Or maybe it was from Hermione? A tiny bit of hope flickered inside of him, though he was certain it would be put out.

Mrs. Gallagher thrust it at him, clearly wanting to be rid of it. Ron plucked it out of her hand and looked back at her warily.

"Do you think he had anything to do with my daughter's death?" she said faintly, clasping her hands together tightly – which was depressing, Ron thought, because it was like she had no one else to hold on to but herself.

"No," Ron said truthfully. "I think he's doing this _because _of her death. Don't trust him, don't say anything, and if you can,_ stay away_."

Her eyes were rimmed with tears now. "I can't. He knows, he always knows."

With that, she circled around and hastened deeper into the trees, her duty done. Ron let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Bloody hell..." he mumbled. Confused, he began retracing his steps, back to where he abandoned his friends.

He drew out his wand and with a quick look around him, whispered "_Lumos_".

Ron examined the note in his hand – plain parchment, folded into a neat square. He closed his eyes and unfurled it, fingertips quivering. Taking a gulp of frosty air, he opened them, reading the illuminated message before him.

_Time is ticking, Ron Weasley, before she's swallowed by a new darkness.  
One final proposition may save her, should you choose to accept it.  
Come alone to the old crow's willow on the dusk of your glorification.  
Let this stay pure.  
Where do your loyalties lie?_

He blinked and the note crumbled to ashes.

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**What did you think? Please post some reviews, I love reading them! Again, so sorry for the extra long wait. I hope this was worth it haha.**

-heylooklisten

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**Edit: **If anyone's interested, you can follow me on twitter at heylooklisten. It's an efficient way to bug me into keeping up with writing, I find, haha.

**Edit x 2**: Also, can you BELIEVE Pottermore sorted me into Gryffindor? I'm the most Un-Gryffindor person you'll ever meet. Nope, still a self-proclaimed Ravenclaw, sorry online Sorting Hat!


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